


The Path of the Thief

by miatlazar



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Blood and Violence, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Guns, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Original Fiction, Some angst, kinda chaotic horny, long chapters, lots of manipulation, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-07 00:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17950118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miatlazar/pseuds/miatlazar
Summary: Rafe Adler is still looking after Henry Avery's treasure, for which its only clue lay on the broken cross of Saint Dismas found along the Drake brothers in a Panamanian jail. Without much success after acquiring the lands of the Saint Dismas cathedral in Scotland, and having died his most reliable source of information about the pirate, Samuel Drake, thirteen years later still does not give up searching for a clue that allows him to continue the trail towards the Gunsway heist and its treasure. This is how he will find Aya, an experienced explorer who finds no other option than to collaborate with Rafe if she does not want to spoil the purpose for which she has been struggling all his life.





	1. The Death

**Author's Note:**

> This story is kinda AU, because it’s a sort of crossover between the events before Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End and an original story. English’s not my native language, you’re welcome to correct me if you find misprints. 
> 
> If you prefer to read it in Spanish, check out my Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/666447081-uncharted-the-path-of-the-thief-i-la-muerte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of them want to use you  
> Some of them want to get used by you  
> Some of them want to abuse you  
> Some of them want to be abused.  
> — “Sweet Dreams”, Eurythmics (cover by Joseph William Morgan ft. Shadow Royale)

''Good evening, Miss Walker''.

Aya smiled uneasily at the young man who opened the huge gate of Dr. William Myers's residence. The rancid time-honored customs of the archaeologist did not surprise her, since William had made particular emphasis on, although being in her late thirties, Aya should be called as Miss, in absence of a marriage alliance in her hand. Regardless, that detail was not the fault of the boy who, with marked nervousness, picked up her coat and insisted on announcing to Myers the arrival of one of his most appreciated guests.

"Don't worry, I prefer when he's taken by surprise" Aya winked at the boy to reassure him, although she was not sure it was effective. "Surely your boastful boss already has much more work for you"

"Actually, yeah... I mean ... I'm not saying doctor Myers is a..."

The woman could not prevent a laugh from escaping, which finally seemed to relax his face after a subtle sigh.

"Excuse me, miss Walker" he concluded then, in a shy half smile. "I hope you enjoy the party"

Aya nodded with a smirk crossing her lips, and soon she directed her critical eye to that hall she had crossed so many times, without letting go the usual repulse it usually caused to her. In it, he had strategically placed the most coveted archaeological pieces of his collection to delight the guests who, appropriately bedecked, were received without hiding the astonishment in their faces. There was something in that environment that had not pleased Aya for a long time, even after so many years - perhaps for the same reasons that made her ally with William.

William Myers was a man obsessed with labels, having a perpetual insistence to remind everyone around him his Ph. D. in Archaeology, so he reflected his personality in his luxurious house pretentiously built on one of the hills of the Californian city of San Francisco. Aya would never have thought about surrounding herself with professionals like Myers, but in a job like treasure hunting, that man archetype was the most common. He had known how to condense in his residence, much smaller than those criminals with whom they sometimes had to work, all the lavishness that his delusions of grandeur allowed him.

Aya crossed the threshold to the ballroom, which already accommodated a good number of guests. Those parties the archeologist enjoyed celebrating were not absent by anyone who was in his right mind, because beyond the excessive pomposity, it was considered a pleasure to be a William Myers's guest. That occasion did not seem to differ in reasons from the previous ones: to coax some foolish rich so they would embark on another adventure in which, of course, Aya would be the one who had to get her hands dirty. William wanted to keep the details in secret until that night, assuring that, and paraphrasing his favorite actor, it would be "an offer she can't refuse". "Tempting," she had replied, unable to avoid sarcasm.

She peeped at the archaeologist's blond head without much trouble, in the center of the room. His imposing height helped to locate him easily, despite the tide of reckless novices who usually surrounded him and seemed to sigh at every word coming out of his mouth, just ten young people carefully selected from the students who crowded the seminars that the doctor taught occasionally at university. Aya sometimes wondered if he himself paid his entourage to chase him at every event, filling him with praises, without thinking who could stand him for so long. In any case, these boys and girls must have been more than satisfied with the position they were in that night, although they probably ignored the moral quality of some of the guests around them.

Turning toward him, her elegant burgundy wide-legged trousers swayed to the rhythm of high-heeled shoes that, in spite of appearances, Aya did not quite get used to. Beyond her reticence with her shoes, she could not deny that in each reflecting surface she found in her way she cast a sideways glance at the silhouette marked by a tight black long-sleeved blouse with a suggestively pronounced v-neck. Pleased, she saw certain curves in her figure she was not accustomed to given her athletic profile, revealed under the fabric in the subtle shapes marked by the musculature of her arms. As soon as William realized the presence of his companion in adventures, his retinue vanished. The theory that they received some kind of compensation was beginning to make sense in her mind.

"A very becoming choice" William interjected referring to her outfit, maintaining a broad smile of satisfaction that his previous conversationalists would have given him, "although on one occasion like tonight I expected you to let your hair down ... At least, literally"

Aya chuckled, adjusting with one hand the improvised but effective pickup of her dark hair.

"Not so bad yourself"

The host smiled wolfishly, his blue eyes of Central European heritage sparkling, framed by the slight wrinkles of a middle-aged man. William did not spare any detail when it comes to his appearance, always giving a distinctive touch, daring that time with a three-piece suit on whose waistcoat gleamed the silver chain of a pocket watch. In other times, William would have been a dandy.

"But let me give you a little advice, Myers" Aya went on, not allowing her companion to articulate any bluster disguised as gratitude. "You should stop wasting your energy in wonder everyone else's moves, especially when you're surrounded by criminals"

"Believe me, I've been assuming how you work for a long time" he replied, with a gesture of resignation. Certainly, in the four years they had worked side by side, he had not finished finding out the framework that gave form to his partner's mentality. "Sometimes I ask myself why I'm still counting on you"

Aya shrugged, before taking a glass of white wine from the tray offered by a waitress.

" 'Cause you're not the one who puts money in our pockets". Then, a half smile appeared on Aya's face. "You wouldn't risk it when you know I'm the best in my business"

"You couldn't do it all by yourself" William answered, disguising a wounded pride.

"Unfortunately".

Dr. Myers combined some expeditions arising from his work as a scholar at a reputed university in California with irregular paperwork in which Aya was his best asset, along with a good sponsor — almost always dedicated to the black market art. Little did he know about his partner's life, but without being specially cultivated in historical knowledge, she was a very capable explorer who, despite everything, insisted on remaining in the shadow. Myers used to lead expeditions in which he had a large number of troops willing to succeed in their excavations, although the efficiency of his companion had convinced him to accept jobs limited to the two of them. Arguing for additional discretion in their more illegal services and a treasure to divide into fewer portions, William had not only achieved greater autonomy but more economic benefits while he still took the glory of the findings. Aya, on the other hand, did not care about the archaeologist's fame as long as he was able to disguise the illegality of their work. Meanwhile, the woman did not shrink from insisting that her efficient services should be duly appreciated and, consequently, well paid. However, William did not fully understand her stubbornness for remaining apparently detached from the business, even calling her a paranoid. As far as their clients were concerned, no one knew Layla Walker was William Myers's secret of success, since none of them knew that the high percentage the archaeologist received had not been used for an expensive excavation equipment.

"Maybe you could, you know, give in favor of other professionals" criticized Myers. Aya sipped her glass while she looked around, with the tired gesture of who gets bored of a conversation that never stopped repeating itself since she knew William. "Trust a little more"

Still with the glass on her lips, she immediately fixed her green eyes on the archaeologist. In a few seconds that seemed timeless to Myers, Aya remained silent until the rough liquid she ingested allowed her to articulate a word.

"In favor of what professionals, William? Enlighten me, since you have your sense of loyalty so definite"

William released all the air from his lungs through his nose, calming that slight frustration with a sip of his glass. Being an important pillar in the success achieved in the last four years, it was particularly convenient for him to remain next to who he considered one of the most valued explorers an archaeologist could have in his favor. If Myers played his cards well that night, he suspected Aya could take him to a much more rewarding treasure than any collection of relics he could boast about.

"My lack of a sense of loyalty will help your bloated sense of convenience, dear" Myers replied, with an evident trace of mockery in his words. "I told you I would lend you a hand with that... thing"

"You'd better be worth it" interrupted Aya, as if she did not want her partner to say a word about it. "You can't imagine what it took me to get off the couch"

"Always clear priorities, huh?" at last, she smiled. "Well, I shouldn't let you be caught with your pants down before our new guest, possible and generous source of funding, so I'll give you some details"

"How kind of you"

"Have you ever heard about Henry Avery?"

"Another pirate? Christ almighty..." Aya showed a sneer of disgust. "Pirate treasures are a pain in the ass, Blackbeard wasn't enough for you?"

"You're very, very wrong, Aya" Myers replied with his classic superiority smile. "It's not another pirate. It's The Pirate, in caps. He was responsible for the largest heist ever plundered, the Gunsway Heist..."

"Whose treasure is estimated at four hundred million dollars"

William and Aya turned their heads towards the unknown voice, receiving a haughty face framed by a brown hair combed back. His relaxed visage contrasted with the powerful energy emanating from him, perhaps thanks to the expensive dark blue tuxedo with which he was dressed. A lopsided smile awaited an answer, but neither of them thought they were facing a patient man.

"Four hundred million ..." Aya intervened, licking her lips in an unconscious gesture. "You should've started there, William"

The new guest looked approvingly unto Aya, in a determined but subtle analysis of her figure. About to offer his hand, William stepped forward.

"Rafe Adler, welcome. It's such a pleasure to meet you here tonight"

Dr. Myers felt a chill run down his spine when Rafe's gray eyes were fixed on his face, trying to maintain a smile that threatened to fade, but the courtesy and the urgent need to please him demanded to keep it. The presence of such a businessman that Aya could distinguish as the heir of the Adler empire, once leaders of the black market art scene, was accompanied by a halo of uncertainty, ignoring what might be crossing his mind. William could not be more anxious than he expected, accustomed to having a horde of followers under his control.

"How could I miss 'an offer I can't refuse'? Besides, we're old acquaintances, right?" Rafe smiled, but in William's appreciation, the tense air could be cut with a knife. "Before you were labeled as one of the best archaeologists of our time"

"So I wasn't the only one to being summoned to Marlon Brando" in a second attempt, Aya approached her hand to Rafe Adler, receiving a firm grip accompanied by an analytical look at her green eyes.

"Layla Walker, I guess?"

The aforementioned could not avoid a surprised gesture. Myers seemed to have ignored her demand, according to which William's potential partners should not hear about her until it was an inevitable outcome, as when he needed her techniques to dazzle a sponsor to their cause. Before giving Myers a stink eye, Aya wanted to relate that inconvenience to the change of loyalties William carried out when planning to affiliate with the Adler empire.

"Well, yeah, according to my driving license" answered the woman, accompanying the firmness in her hand, narrowing Rafe's with a purposively captivating smile. She did not know what her role would be for that night, but she wanted to be prepared for whatever plan Myers had contrived. "But I prefer my partners to call me Aya"

Rafe raised his eyebrows and gave a slight laugh.

"Straight to the point. I like it"

"Just how we like to work, don't we?"

Despite her usual bad manners with the archaeologist, Aya had shown to know how to deal with men difficult to dupe, after numerous occasions in which Myers needed the presence of his partner to lure —or threat— some wealthy magnate given to the crime. However, Rafe Adler did not seem content with similar superficialities, so Aya soon tried to found William's cooperation giving him a gentle nudge.

The archaeologist cleared his throat, before taking over the conversation.

"No doubt" he finally replied. "We don't want to waste your time"

"I know you won't, William" as he pronounced his name, a malicious smile grew on Rafe's lips. "In that case, what if we continue the conversation you were holding before I arrived? After all, that's what I came for, isn't it?"

Aya smiled, trying to build some complicity with Rafe. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched William playing with the chain of his pocket watch, apparently nervous.

"Anyway," Adler went on, "I'm eaten up with curiosity. Did I hear right about Queen Anne's Revenge?"

More than a banal conversation, Rafe was testing them. Aya decided to shut up knowing, if talking about treasures, William was the right person. His usual boastful tone had calmed down, without neglecting the merit of Edward Thatch's treasure trove under his name. On certain occasions, Rafe turned his gaze to Aya, who simply took a few appetizers fluttering in the trays of the waiters.

"And what's your role in all of this?" Rafe asked the woman, distrustful. "William insisted you're a very important part of the job"

Aya, almost choking on an salmon and cream cheese bite, kept Rafe's gaze every precious second she could win before answering. Her work as an explorer had never required her to answer questions since she had never been recognized as such. Usually, the archaeologist gave an academic lecture with which to convince the highest bidder, who never cared about the tools they used, giving Myers a free way to magnify the booty to their benefit. As long as he received his disproportionate share without knowing it, the bidder did not care much about the media, convinced that Myers was sufficiently aware that his life was hanging by a thread if the treasure was not delivered to him.

"Let's say I'm the... tactical team," she finally summed up.

Rafe raised his eyebrows. Aya swallowed, and tried to calm her dried mouth with a sip of wine — she did not feel able to give a better answer. It was clear they could not walk with half-measures, and Myers made no effort to bring any help to the conversation. The only thing her head had concluded was the crazy thing it was that a businessman as Rafe Adler counted on William Myers for a treasure of so inestimable value, information sufficiently prized to pretend to have as many troops as Myers boasted. A considerable number of workers in a juicy expedition resulted in a high risk of the success of the same, in a world where traitors abounded under rocks. Precisely because of this, the Adlers had not gone so far leaving their affairs unattended, unlike those rich men whose neglect Myers took advantage of to find the treasures he desired. Aya was sure Rafe knew all this very well if he had decided to attend that evening, and if Myers had revealed her as a treasure hunter.

"I don't know about your preferences" Aya continued, diminishing the tone of her voice disguised as suggestive reliability "but we should clarify that in our last jobs we have offered way more... discreet services"

William felt drops of sweat fall down the back of his neck when he saw Rafe squint his questioning gray eyes at Aya. Myers claimed to have used the false working method in Blackbeard's expedition, apparently full of great technological resources and a good number of workers, a modus operandi contrary to what he had defended weeks before, the first time he and Rafe talked about Henry Avery. Not even at that moment Myers hid he had indeed made scamming his profession, but Rafe seemed content with his strategies then. He was not a man who could lend his money without checking where it was going to be invested, so Myers had tried the trick of sincerity still aware of the lies he was dragging, which made his promises look like a paradox. Rafe needed a safe bet.

Aya continued her speech without losing confidence before the businessman's frown:

"I'm talking about services limited to William and me. Very effective, more silent and with less money to distribute. That's where my real work comes in"

Myers sighed imperceptibly. He had already realized sincerity was not going to allow his usual games with the treasure's profit percentages, but he had to remember the four hundred million dollars to be able to silence his greed. Then, contrary to what he was predicting, Rafe smiled broadly.

"Perfect, just what I was expecting" the businessman replied, softening the sound of his voice. Aya felt every fiber of her body relax, as if her cells were sighing in unison. "You know? I'm tired of windbags who boast of state-of-the-art equipment and an army of explorers when they don't know how to find their balls with a compass"

"You can be sure we guarantee results" William answered, his heartbeat bouncing furiously in his chest.

Rafe gave a laugh of satisfaction, maintaining an air of distrust. Aya had seemed to notice a tinge in his words.

"Exactly what I wanted to hear" Adler continued. "I'm not interested in fooling around after so many years behind that devil of Henry Avery, and I'm not willing to be teased again. I hope you understand what I mean"

His icy gaze danced from Myers to Aya and vice versa, waiting for an answer. William seemed to get used to Rafe's ways, and he seemed calmer. On the contrary, it was Aya who began to see her mood altered.

"Absolutely" said William, breaking a brief but painful silence. "If you wish, we can discuss details in private"

Rafe smiled with what resembled a hint of complicity towards the archaeologist.

"Is where you hide the good scotch?"

William gave a nervous laugh, laying a hand on Rafe's shoulder to lead him through the labyrinthine residence to his office. Aya used to not be present at her partner's meetings as, to the outside world, she did not participate in the expeditions more than as an 'administrative support'. In that sense, the less people knew about the details of the treasure, the less competition possibilities there would be, so her absence at those kind of meetings made their 'sponsor' feel more secure. However, William seemed to have forgotten to recognize her as an explorer to Rafe, as he made no effort to integrate her into the impromptu reunion. Adler wished Aya a good evening, shaking her hand again, and once again posing his sharp gray eyes on hers. A shiver born in her fingers when touching Rafe's hand, which did not disappear until they both vanished from the ballroom.

In other circumstances, Aya would have tried to enjoy the party until receiving all the information from William, if the professional alliance was fruitful. It was usual for her to limit herself to field work. But, without knowing how, there was something of that treasure stirring her conscience. Rafe had decided to entrust such suggestive information as a loot equivalent to four hundred million dollars knowing in advance the dubious reliability of William's methods, not because of lack of efficiency but because of the gaps in his misleading speech. In short, Henry Avery could hardly be an excuse — both Rafe and William knew their meeting that night was a transgression on the part of the archaeologist, although Aya had never come to know the reasons that gripped the fragile relationships between the criminal elites dedicated to the black market art. On the other hand, it was not clear to her that Rafe could be interested in money, a strange objective for who could have inherit the fortune equivalent to the value of Avery's treasure. She could only hear from his mouth what his intentions were, and Rafe had not been reluctant to let Aya be present in the terms of the negotiation. Her only chance was to discover his plans from the shadow — she could not trust William himself would miss some important detail.

Being a guest of honor at the Myers mansion allowed that waiters and servants do not dare to ask when going to a room not reserved for the other attendees. Taking advantage of it, Aya undertook with slyness the way towards the office. Before losing sight of the waiters, she got rid of her empty glass of wine to get a flat-bottomed glass of unknown content which, once she saw nobody was looking at her, emptied on one of the few plant pots she found in her way. Her new destination was located in a secluded corner on the top floor of the house, in an inhospitable lightly lit corridor. The door, locked tight, did not even allow a ray of light from inside and barely a murmur of their conversation. Wasting no more time, Aya placed the edge of the glass over the door, thinner than the walls that separated the corridor from the room. Luckily, they were so far from the party that the ambient noise and prying eyes would not be a nuisance.

"Old tricks are always the best" she whispered derisively.

She pressed her right ear against the base of the glass, slightly distinguishing the conversation that was kept inside the room.

"... so those have been all my clues" it seemed to be Rafe's voice. "That fucking broken cross. And, as you'll understand, I spent so much money buying those lands. But that's not my problem, it's time and the people that made me lose it. Among them Nathan Drake"

''Nathan Drake, huh?", William interjected.

Aya, who was frowning as if that allowed her to hear better, opened her eyes in surprise. The conversation had become interesting when she could recognize the name of the treasure hunter — indeed, William was lending a hand to her.

"Yeah, he and his dead brother were the ones who got me into all this, before letting me down. At least that takes away some competition". Aya could imagine the same gesture of astonishment on William that now occupied her face, but for different reasons. "You know him?"

"Never had the pleasure, but I heard you were partners" the archaeologist replied. In his trembling voice, William was beginning to be affected by the symptoms of alcohol intake. "You know, people talk"

"Always so timely, Myers..." Aya muttered. William had not known how to hide his fascination, and even she had guessed it was not Rafe's favorite topic in a conversation.

"Oh, really?" Rafe could no longer hide his discomfort, which translated into an aggressive tone. "And what are people talking about?"

"Well, everyone knows Nathan Drake is a legend"

After a few seconds of silence, Aya heard the crunching sound of William's couch. Someone had stood up. Then she could hear a click, which, alarmed, she could identify very well. Dropping the glass tumbler to the floor, she pushed open the door as a shot deafened her, disorienting her and tripping over a carpet.

William's lifeless body fell, and once again, Rafe's icy eyes locked on Aya.


	2. The Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m bigger than my body  
> I’m colder than this home  
> I’m meaner than my demons  
> I’m bigger than these bones  
> — ''Control'', Halsey.

Although Rafe's gun was no longer aimed at her, Aya stood up with her hands up. She had not even tried to help Myers since the growing pool of blood around his body allowed her to guess there was nothing to do for him. The archaeologist had collapsed on the imposing mahogany desk at the left side of the room, dragging in its fall to the ground some papers that were dyed crimson. Aya avoided at all costs to make any movement that would make Rafe nervous, though that businessman did not seem altered at all.

"You can put your hands down" Rafe crossed the room to the door and stirred with his foot the broken glass with which Aya had heard part of the conversation, chuckling. "Unless you intend to say an unwelcome occurrence like your partner"

"As much as it fucks you up, Drake is well known among treasure hunters"

Rafe closed the door behind her, who remained motionless, resting her arms. Aya felt his sharp gray gaze as if a dagger opened a deep wound down the length of her back.

"You don't wanna bust my balls, Miss Walker" her name slid through his mouth with a rough tinkle, while Aya felt in the middle of her shoulder blades the gun barrel still warm, slowly descending her spine. After a deep sigh that shook the back of her neck, Rafe moved away going for his half-finished glass of whiskey, on a side table next to a large sofa, without letting go of the gun. "Are you some kind of spy? Old school, surely. The glass is a classic"

"I haven't heard anything you have to worry about" Aya answered, ignoring his question. "But I don't know what William's opinions have to do with it so you had to kill him"

"I'm a temperamental man. But this comes beyond Nathan Drake, of course — Myers just put himself on a silver platter". Rafe sat down and pointed the gun at the chair in front of him so Aya could do the same. She obeyed with slow movements. "Let's be clear: we both know your friend was a charade, like everything he has dedicated to during his miserable life. What I would like to know is who you are"

Her interest in maintaining a low profile allowed her not to know about expeditions more than the strictly necessary information to undertake it. However, Aya had occasionally been required by Myers to finish convincing her sponsors when the percentages of the treasure's benefit seemed doubtful to them, an organized scam of the archaeologist about which she did not know until she was fully involved.. Aya was not able to remember Rafe linked to any work they had done, but neither was surprising Myers could have tempted luck by entangling the wrong person. The Adler empire was large, and perhaps William pointed too high to go against one of their proteges.

Rafe cleared his throat, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not fucking anyone's spy," Aya resumed. "I work ... I worked with William, that's all".

The businessman maintained an unchanging position with which he gave the woman the opportunity to continue her speech. Noticing her trembling body, Aya forced herself to remain rigid on the seat, her hands tensed on her thighs, wanting to prevent him from perceiving a single hint of fear.

"You know how it works, right? We look for a guy rolling in dough to finance an expedition, get our hands a little dirty and return with the treasure"

"And how much is the percentage you usually steal?" Rafe replied, without changing the threatening but strangely quiet tone that came from his throat. "It will be easy to get a good slice when you say you have very expensive resources to finance that don't exist"

Aya breathed in and exhaled deeply, cursing inside her the day she allowed the archaeologist's irregularities.

"I have no fucking idea what William was doing with the money" Aya said then, a little lie she fought not to be betrayed by the tremor in her voice. "I just did my work and received my share"

"I'm sure you're not that dumb to not suspect something was happening"

Aya arched an eyebrow, beginning to contemplate the few possibilities in which she could kill Rafe and get away with it.

"You're right, I'm not that dumb" her voice had descended a few octaves, her darkened eyes scanning the businessman. "That's why I receive money without asking, Mr. Adler. I don't give a damn if in an expedition we are a hundred or two, and whatever resources we have or not. I'm just a hired hand, following orders"

The woman gestured toward Myers's corpse, but Rafe made no move to look away from her.

"If you had any doubt about it, there was your information" she concluded then. "Don't pretend to convince me I'm here for a pair of assholes who did wrong by trusting Myers"

Without she could have warned it, Rafe smiled.

"I have no doubt of what Myers did in the past, he already had the opportunity to tell me and ... as you see, that matter is settled" he resumed, imitating Aya's same gesture toward the archaeologist. "I just want to know why a hired hand be so interested in spying on our conversation"

Aya could not claim she thought something fishy was going on in his purpose for Henry Avery's treasure, and likewise, she would not say Myers had agreed to help her contact someone who knew Nathan Drake directly ... Although she expected a friendlier relationship between them.

"William has kept all this secret, so I have no idea what he was up to" she swallowed — her mouth felt dry. She doubted Rafe would be satisfied with such an answer, but she was not able to find a better way out. "We’re talking about four hundred million dollars, I wasn’t going to remain calm when he kindly told you who I am. And since neither of you has bothered to invite me to the VIP area..."

"Now you can guess why" Rafe replied. That answer left Aya somewhat out of place, confirming the murder of Myers was planned. "Is there any reason why William hid what your real job is?"

Aya thought to read in Rafe's mind paranoid thoughts about her alleged work as a spy. 'This moron still thinks I'm working for the damned Drake' she thought.

"Because I told him to" Rafe raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised. "Just a matter of personal safety. You see, first time he mentions me and you're already pointing me with a gun"

Rafe briefly looked away, pursing his lips as he chewed on some thought that Aya found unpredictable. Then he lowered the weapon and drained the last drops of whiskey from the glass that occupied his other hand.

"How long have you been in these... treasure huntings?" Rafe inquired, in a more relaxed gesture.

"Quite a while. With William, about four years in a row. I used to work on my own with other kinds of orders, apart from the treasures" Rafe stared at her again, questioning her once more. "I was some kind of a... private detective"

A slight laugh escaped from Rafe's mouth. It was ironic that a private detective culminated her professional career surrounded by criminals, one of whom threatened her life at that precise moment.

"It seems this time you've bothered a lot for not lying".

"The sponsor’s reputation helps" Aya argued, clinging to the poise she had managed to gather when she stopped feeling the gun pointed at her. "We've risked a lot to meet you tonight, but neither of us has obtained benefits"

Even without raising it one more time against her, Rafe's knuckles grew paler as he tightened his grip on his weapon.

"What benefits do two traitors expect?" he answered hoarsely.

"I can't speak for William, but I'm not a traitor. I haven't sworn anything to anyone". The words came out of Aya's mouth faster than she thought. Accustomed to lying so often, it seemed that her brain had activated its defense mechanism on its own, even though it had not been entirely dishonest that time. "I'll just go to the highest bidder"

Rafe chuckled, in a gesture tinged with sarcasm.

"That doesn't make it easy for me to trust you"

Aya did not expect from Rafe a different reaction, but she watched his armed hand no longer landed on his leg with the same fierceness as before. She gave a half smile and raised her green eyes to him.

"But I'm still alive"

"Good appreciation" he said, in a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. He felt Aya was gaining confidence in a situation that was clearly unfavorable to her, which made him believe she did not take him seriously, but he could not help but find some amusement in the situation. "For now, you've proven to have balls, and that's useful. But what can you offer me?"

"Do I have to offer you anything?"

Rafe shrugged.

"Depends on how you wanna get out of this office: on your two legs or inside a plastic bag" Rafe held Aya's green gaze for a moment until he gave a disquieting smile. "Well, maybe we don't need to be so drastic... But you don't wanna find out the limits of my patience"

Ignoring his sadistic humor, Aya remained silent for a moment, scrutinizing William's corpse with her eyes, at the left of the armchair where she was. Rays of moonlight filtered through the curtains of the window, bringing out flashes of blood that soaked the wooden floor. She supposed that one day bad companies he frequented in recent years would make this his end, but not in that way. "Not because of a rich asshole", she thought, clenching her fists. Although her relationship with William was limited to the strictly professional, she could not avoid a twinge of pain in her chest – a mixture of impotence because of the unfairness of the situation and a certain affection that, in a way, she had developed towards the conceited archaeologist. She wondered what end a scammer should deserve, what differentiated his crimes from what Rafe himself could have committed, or herself.

She let go of her thoughts when Rafe handed her a drink. 'Getting drunk on Myers's corpse' she told herself. Aya could not avoid an ironic snort, almost confused with a laugh, and in one gulp she drained all the scotch.

"Don't get drunk" Rafe said, derisively. "Your detective side will come in handy to take charge of this mess"

"I couldn't do it without being drunk," she muttered, hoping Rafe had not heard her. She cleared her throat and continued speaking at an audible volume. "In that case, why don't you tell me what you need?"

Rafe smiled broadly and stood up, walking toward the archaeologist's lifeless body, headlong between the desk and the imposing window. He crouched over him, and with the pistol still in his hand, he picked up a blond lock of hair that fell over his wide blue eyes, covered with the blood that had flowed from the hollow in his brow bone.

"You've already heard something about the story, I suppose," Rafe began.

"Not enough".

He finally holstered his weapon. He got up and went to the window, pushing the rigid legs of the archaeologist out of his way with a few touches of his elegant shoes. Opening the curtains, he took another sip from his glass.

"At least you've arrived in time for fun" he hissed. He turned on his heels and began pacing back and forth the room slowly. "How do you know Nathan Drake?

"Only by hearsay. Are you going to kill me for that?".

Rafe gave a loud laugh.

"What an obsession with killing you. No, just simple curiosity. Those who join Nathan Drake are normally of the same ilk"

"I suppose you joined him, too"

Without interrupting his little walk, he glanced sideways at Aya.

"And that's why our association didn't last long." After taking another sip of whiskey, Rafe calmly approached the side table next to the sofa he previously occupied and refilled his glass. He showed the glass bottle to Aya, offering it to her, but she dismissed with her hand. "Right, we agreed you're not gonna get drunk".

'Asshole', she concluded in her head.

"Thirteen years ago I met a pickpocket with naive dreams of greatness, and not by chance" Rafe continued his particular walk around the room, stopping to whip through William's belongings that occupied the crowded shelves. "At that time I was already working for my parents' business, and this type of freeloader is waiting for any bored rich guy willing to drop a wad of cash. I'm sure you're familiar with what I'm saying"

Aya rolled her eyes. Sensing a long blaze of complacency, she relaxed her posture slightly by resting both elbows on the armrests of the chair, crossing one leg over the other. The presence of Myers, visible from the corner of her eye, still unsettled her, but accustomed to so many deaths around her, Aya knew that what bothered her the most was the risk of her own survival.

"Samuel Drake", he sighed with resignation. "That bastard had it perfectly studied, but he really seemed like a legit guy. I don't know what kind of... personal crusade was behind, but he had a particular ambition for Avery's treasure. Does it ring a bell to you?"

Aya frowned — she had never known the name of Nathan's older brother. In fact, she had never heard about the existence of another Drake apart from the treasure hunter.

"Yeah, I've been briefed a few minutes ago" Aya said angrily, beginning to get nervous with Rafe's constant swaying, inspecting the room with the archaeologist corpse still present. "What was wrong with Drake, so?".

"Don't be impatient," he snapped, with a patronizing tone. "Actually, I had no problem with Samuel. He openly recognized he needed me. After all, what stopped him was he didn't have a penny. Nathan was not happy with his decision, though"

"Sure, who would've imagined it ..." interceded Aya in a whisper.

"... but finally, he accept. Both were willing to find that treasure at all costs. It's not that they needed a motive to search for four hundred million dollars, they were small-time criminals". Rafe paused, and after taking another sip of scotch, he sat down again in front of Aya. "Then I saw myself bribing the warden of a rickety Panamanian prison in the middle of nowhere so that the three of us could infiltrate"

Aya raised her eyebrows, incredulous.

"After all, it was fun while it lasted... " Rafe continued with a lost look on his face. It was the first time in the night Aya did not see the glacial determination with which he analyzed every feature of his environment. "As I told you, the Drakes had already managed to get their own resources by the time they contacted me, so they had a letter signed by one Joseph Burnes which was sent to his son from his cell in "the Spaniards' prison". As you can guess, the same prison in which we infiltrate. He confessed to being a member of Henry Avery's crew and to have participated in the Gunsway heist. Then he told his son he hoped one day he would "bear his cross" and "discover the riches of paradise". So the first step was clear: we had to get to his cell."

It was not hard to see how much Rafe liked to recreate himself in that kind of stories. Surely, it would have been the most genuine experience he could ever have lived.

"And what did you intend to find in that cell? The ghost of Joseph Burnes waiting for you with a cup of tea and a treasure map?"

To her surprise, Rafe smiled. The woman's constant sarcastic tone seemed to amuse him, what Aya did not know if see it as an advantage or as a source of constant frustration.

"A simple clue was better than nothing at that time". With a deep exhalation, Rafe settled on the back of the couch, extending his free arm into it. "But we were quite lucky — Burnes wasn't using a metaphor. We found a wooden cross with a carving of San Dimas"

"The penitent thief? Good sense of humor, being a pirate"

"So you also went to church on Sundays." Aya frowned. To devote himself to the art business, Rafe did not give the sensation of having some notions of iconography. "Anyway, the cross contained something inside it, but it was already broken and hollow when we found it. We only came to the conclusion that Saint Dismas Cathedral in Scotland was a clue"

She didn't miss Rafe's constant use of the first person plural when talking about their adventure, wondering if he would have noticed the connection by himself.

"Then, the riches of paradise..."

"If they're in that damn cathedral, I haven't found them yet" Rafe answered, in a grimace of weariness. "As you can guess, I've been combing the area for thirteen years without finding anything"

"And where are the Drakes in all this?"

"Let's say ..." Rafe shifted in the seat, taking another sip of his drink. In spite of the amount of alcohol he had ingested, Aya did not perceive in him any trace of drunkenness. "Our stay in prison didn't go as well as we wanted, anyone could realize what we were planning was quite... Sweet. How would we wanna sneak into that hell if it wasn't for a treasure like the Gunsway’s? Nate and I escaped but Samuel died when the guards opened fire. What a real shame..."

He took the last sip and set the glass on the table between them. This time, he fixed his eyes on Aya.

"I lost my greatest expert in Avery, and to top it off, Nate dumped me to go exploring his fucking lost cities. I was left with no more clue than that cross, and believe me, I haven't stopped searching for something"

Aya bit her lower lip, losing her gaze somewhere between Rafe's shoes. She already saw not other chance than working for Rafe, and her brain reminded her again he was the contact Myers referred to as Nathan Drake’s acquaintance. But that hand the archaeologist was going to lend her was not as useful as he intended, and she began to wonder if it really was worth wasting time in a booty that began to feel like a legend.

"If you haven't found anything in thirteen years, what do you want?" Aya asked then, looking up again.

"A different perspective" he answered. Something so simple that Aya almost convinced herself that this was just a temper tantrum ... Or Rafe was a complete idiot. "I'm sure there is at least one clue I've missed. If you've been with Myers all this time, I'm sure you could help me"

"Sure, because recognizing you need Nathan Drake would be too much for you".

Rafe scrutinized her fiercely, and she crossed her arms visibly uncomfortable. She unwittingly turned his eyes to what she could see of William's body from her position. Once again, she recalled that surreal situation.

"A risky move" the timbre of his voice had sharpened as the look she felt on her. Immediately afterward, she saw how he was trying to relax. "But yeah, I suppose I need a new Drake. I need a loyal Drake, or at least a Drake who doesn't die at the drop of a hat"

"In short, you want me to be your treasure hunter"

Rafe sighed. It was obvious when his patience ran out.

"Yes, that's what I said. You think you're up to it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I'd say no"

Once again, his fierce smile. Aya bit her lip, anxious.

"What do you do with those who give you a no for an answer?"

"Nothing special, normally. The problem is that you already have something against me"

"Something against you? For fuck's sake..." Aya ran her hands over her face, sighing. "You really think I would take revenge on you for this?".

"You shouldn't, remember you're here betraying Nicholas" Rafe's words fell on Aya like a gravestone. Sure enough she was between the sword and the wall. "Right now I'm the closest thing to an ally you can have"

A million thoughts crossed over the woman's head, as she scrutinized William's corpse. She kept repeating herself how worthwhile would be to continue with her plan after all that madness.

"I guess..." she continued, hesitantly. "You're right"

For the first time in all night, Rafe's gesture seemed truly happy.

"That's what I wanted to hear. Conditions?".

Aya sighed deeply, still incredulous at the words she had just spoken.

"I'm not more interested in Avery's treasure than what you offer me for it" she said, trying not to lose firmness in her voice. "A fair payment and fair treatment".

"That depends on what you achieve"

'He won't believe all this shit is enough, of course', she interrupted him on her head.

"And if there are no results?" Aya asked then.

"It's not in my plans to get rid of you if your work isn’t right" Rafe had read her mind. "In case you don't have it clear... It won't be convenient for you to fail"

Rafe rose to his feet, and suddenly remembered William's presence. He approached with the glass in one hand, putting the other in his pants pocket.

"Guests won't take long to miss their host. These meetings are usually quite long, but just in case..."

He pulled out of his jacket's inside pocket an expensive smartphone, and after a few quick touches with his thumb, he put it away again. Meanwhile, Aya had also risen but had not shifted an inch from her position. After pouring himself one last sip of whiskey, Rafe took advantage of Aya's immobility to look at her figure, more blatantly than he had already done in the party.

"Dark colors, good choice. You won't have to worry about spots"

Keeping her gaze, the businessman approached Aya until the distance between them was reduced to bold limits. Both studied their faces without looking away, resulting for Aya an arduous exercise of audacity and, for Rafe, an amusement. He then noticed a scar across her left eyebrow, a gash descending dangerously to her eye and which she had managed to conceal with makeup. He brought his hand to Aya's face, placing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. He descended his fingers down her cheek and to her neck, where he also saw a trail of old wounds. With fewer reflections than she would have expected, Aya grabbed Rafe's wrist, though she barely had to use her strength against him so he lowered his hand. He sighed with a certain air of resignation, shaking his head.

"My people will soon come to lend a hand" adapting to the small space separating them, Rafe had lowered the tone of his voice "I trust your detective skills to invent a credible story. Suicide, maybe?"

"That wound isn't from the point-blank shot of a suicide. It doesn't even have a trace of gunpowder" in the same way, Aya accommodated herself to the businessman's volume. It was so unreal she wanted to pinch her arms, but her body did not react.

''Really? Wow, you're good". He moved away at last, but without taking Aya's eyes off, he put the glass down one last time on the table. ''You could be more useful than I expected''

'You can learn it even in a fucking cops' TV show' she answered to herself. When she noticed the empty glass on the table, Aya quickly deduced that if Rafe did not worry about destroying the evidence it was not a matter of ignorance, but he simply could afford it. As easy as he has murdered the host and he would come out the front door as one more guest. For some time her mind had been rambling about how she could have ended Rafe's life in that room, but such a crazy idea disappeared when she understood she was facing a man who would make the most honest of the cops his accomplice. Be that as it may, Aya had everything to lose, and Rafe had already reminded her.

"You'll hear from me in a couple of days" Rafe was heading for the door, and after opening it, he turned to a stunned Aya. "Relax, Aya. In the end, you'll see I'm a nice guy"

She could not help shuddering at the sound of the door closing, and suddenly she noticed how every inch of her body ached — she had forced, as a call for survival, a firm stance with which to confront Adler. She took a look at her surroundings, a scene of a crime she had to manipulate. The situation was not alien to her, although it was the first time the victim was her partner. Her stomach did not stop stirring at the thought of what had just happened, so thinking about pouring herself a drink, she went to the glass bottle Rafe was hoarding minutes before, believing that perhaps that was what eliminated any bit of empathy in him. When she reached it, she watched its contents against the light of the window.

"That son of a bitch hasn't even left scotch" she whispered.

With a furious growl, Aya left the empty bottle in a sharp thud. She closed her eyes, dilating a sigh, and when she opened it again they focused on William's lifeless body. She walked up to it feeling a pressure building on her chest as her steps approached him. Slowly, in a longed-for reverential silence, Aya bent down to observe that disheveled face. A ray of moonlight bounced over the archaeologist's muted eyes, which Aya closed with her trembling fingers.


	3. The High Priestess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wake up, I'm afraid  
> Somebody else might take my place  
> When I wake up, I'm afraid  
> Somebody else might end up being me  
> — ''Afraid'', The Neighborhood.

A deep exhalation came out of her mouth, blurring the views of the city lying at her feet. She dropped the weight of her body against the frame of the window, closed against the cold March Scottish wind. Aya found Edinburgh's architecture quite fascinating, even when she thought she had lost the capacity of being amazed after so many places where she has lived. After tedious hours of bibliographical research, if it was appropriate to name it that way, she could not help but let her eyes, already tired, wander over that medieval city she had hardly tasted as she wished.

In two months, her days had been limited to diving among the files Rafe had gathered during thirteen years of inquiries and, despite everything, seemed not to be enough. Aya would almost affirm Rafe himself had assumed that destiny, since the first time she entered there the dust was the main protagonist. At least now she had a clean office... But not especially organized.

Aya looked over her shoulder at the boxes full of notebooks and papers, which rose in number from where she stood, behind the desk, to the opposite wall, mingling with the large shelves and generating an entire ecosystem that contaminated every corner of the room. It was a fairly large one, she guessed that it suited Rafe and his walks when his mind rambled.

Three firm knocks at the half-open door of her new office took her out of her reverie. Turning around, Rafe's gray eyes greeted her, and without a word, he closed behind him. Then, Aya realized he was bringing a cup of steaming coffee.

"I know it's hard for you to ask Brenda for it" he explained. Certainly, Aya did not look kindly at having secretaries as waitresses. "But if you don't take a break your mind won't be useful"

Without losing sight of Aya's face, as usual, Rafe advanced towards her until he placed the cup on the table, finding with some effort a gap between the paper sheets with the anarchic calligraphy of the woman which crowded the surface. He glanced at them, with a tilted smile.

"Thanks, Rafe"

It was one of the few times Rafe could perceive in Aya's voice a hint of surprise, although it was not the first time he showed certain gestures of kindness. Rafe returned his eyes to Aya's and simply shrugged. He began to walk away slowly, putting both hands inside the pockets of his suit trousers, and examining the room as if he had never stepped there. The Adler empire's heir never lost his elegance, and every day went to his office, on the top floor where Aya was, as flawless as he could. That day, Rafe wore a dark gray suit with a white shirt, no tie. Aya identified it as one of his favorites, although she could imagine the spaciousness of his wardrobe, but she had seen it on more than one occasion lately. She felt it even helped Rafe to be in a better mood, which could be very useful to her that day. As always, his hair was pulled back, leaving his pale face free.

Aya tried to offer a good physical appearance, but she had decided not to be influenced by the dress code among Rafe Adler employees. Instead, she used to wear dark pants combined with different pairs of boots adapted to her means of transport, a classic Triumph Truxton, as well as a leather jacket which was laying on the back of the chair behind the desk.

Her uniform required the comfort of her dark brown hair always collected, usually in a long braid falling on her back. The rivers of ink running through her olive skin could be seen in her arms, those which Rafe did not notice the day they met.

Contrary to what Aya could have believed at first, Rafe did not complain at her particular style despite his own tastes, since at the end of the day he considered Aya's work particularly different from any worker in the building, and important enough not to force her to adjust to trivialities. In a way, Aya's comfort served to his own benefit, and she even saw Rafe found some amusement in her small transgressions. They reminded both of them who was the one who actually had the power, unlike their relationship with Myers.

"Guess you are bored as hell there, at the top of your pyramid"

Rafe gave a slight laugh.

"Just a little. I have to wait for a new associate and, well, I was hoping you could tell me something useful in the meantime"

Beyond his criminal tasks in the art market, Rafe continued carrying on daily the inherited business from his parents, which he had placed in Edinburgh, about fifty miles from the location of the San Dimas Cathedral. Despite this, Rafe had assured they would not return to the excavation until discovering new clues, and as things were going, Aya felt she would not end up seeing that location with her own eyes.

"So you need some information to show off with that new associate"

"More or less" Rafe kept a lopsided smile, still scanning the surroundings. "You'll know why when you meet her"

After Rafe's attitudes, Aya was surprised at how willing he seemed to be to have women by his side. 'Maybe it's his version of being desperate' her mind concluded.

"Actually, there aren't any news" she finally replied. "I haven't advanced much"

"Those notes there seem interesting"

Aya sat on the big chair behind the desk, not avoiding a snort. Rafe did the same with the sofa next to the fireplace, to the left of Aya and in front of the door. That situation was already the ritual of when Rafe came to know the progress of his explorer.

"Just desperate theories".

"Better than nothing" he concluded. "I wanna hear you"

The woman took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. While she took a sip of coffee, Rafe pulled a sumptuous silver cigarette case from his jacket and extracted a cigarette that soon came to his mouth. Aya knew that Rafe did not smoke often, being a man quite concerned about his physical performance, and in fact, he did not usually let himself be seen with a cigar in his mouth in front of anyone. Both agreed about that, but added the stress she had accumulated in recent weeks, Aya could not refuse when he offered the open cigarette case.

Aya caught an Antique Copper Zippo from the table and approached Rafe, offering him a flame with which he could light his cigar. She picked up one of Rafe's and went back to the desk, this time leaning on it. Her index and middle fingers placed the nicotine cylinder between her lips, still trying to find the right words while she lit the lighter again. Shortly after, she felt the warm, dry smoke coming down her larynx, reminding her that she should definitely abandon that vice, even if it was punctual. She released a deep sigh contaminated with tobacco, playing with the Zippo in her hands while thinking.

"We may need to take a step back" started Aya.

Rafe arched an eyebrow, without articulating any sound. He tapped his cigar on the ashtray on the side table, taking a deep drag later. She imitated him, which allowed her to evade Rafe's icy eyes for a moment while looking with his eyes a second ashtray, on the desk. She took another sip of coffee before continuing talking.

"I think, until now, everything has been false steps"

"Do you think a thirteen-year investigation it's useless?" interrupted Rafe, visibly irritated.

Aya sighed. She knew that even though Rafe himself was probably thinking the same, it was not nice to hear it from someone else.

"The cross has always been the key if you were looking for some kind of map, or whatever it had inside ..."

"Yes, but there was nothing left inside when I found it," Rafe cut again her speech, noticing a bit of weariness in his voice. "I had to look for other ways, obviously"

"The problem is there are no other ways" said Aya firmly. She was finding out how not to be overwhelmed by the stubborn attitude of the businessman. "Avery was the most wanted pirate captain in the world at that time, he would have to hide his treasure too well. Avery wanted that there wasn't another way to find it than to follow the path he marked, step by step. Without following all the tracks in order, you can't reach the end"

"A goddamn gymkhana..."

Rafe exhaled hard, throwing himself against the back of the sofa, but still not losing his upright posture. The swaying of his right foot was the only sign of his nervousness, which made his left leg tremble across his knee.

"Something like that" said Aya. She bit her lip, leaving her gaze lost, before continuing. "You could keep combing the cathedral, but at the risk of being thirteen more years without finding anything because, perhaps, the treasure is elsewhere"

Then, Aya looked back at Rafe. She did not know if at some point he had taken his eyes off her.

"Yeah, I supposed all of this before you told me." He stopped, inhaling the smoke with another puff. "The problem is you're confirming we are screwed"

"Not necessarily" Aya replied. "We have to recover the trace from Saint Dismas cross..."

"Do I really have to tell you again that fucking cross was hollow? Besides, I don't even have it"

Aya frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Would you mind stopping interrupting me? Or you could just wait until I find results on my own"

Rafe rolled his eyes, and with a mocking gesture, indicated her with his hand to continue.

"What do you know about Joseph Burnes?" Aya continued.

"Just what I remember about the letter. He was a member of the Fancy's crew"

"Is there any reason why Avery would give the only clue to his treasure to a single pirate?" Rafe narrowed his eyes at Aya's question, looking this time at an infinite point behind her. "It's not that Burnes was someone so special for being the only one to win the jackpot".

Like a spring, Rafe sat up and stared at Aya again.

"Avery made more than one cross," he whispered.

"To divide the treasure among those who had participated in the Gunsway Heist".

Rafe began giving his particular walks from left to right, a moment Aya took advantage of to finish the rest of the coffee. Finally, he stopped to address her again.

"Forget all of this and focus on finding another cross, then"

Aya sighed once more. She was beginning to feel like on a roller coaster.

"But if we have to find a cross, we should know who was part of Avery's crew." Rafe raised an eyebrow, seeing no problem. Aya hastened to clarify: "Those data haven't transcended, and the little known was lost in a fire at a university in charge of an investigation about it around the sixties. Probably few things survived and had gone from hand to hand, or from robbery to robbery"

"As Burnes letter"

"Exactly"

Rafe was rubbing his jaw, still walking across the room. Neither of them knew if they had found good news or bad news.

"Let me get this straight" Rafe rushed to clarify. "We need to find one of the copies of the Saint Dismas cross that still has inside whatever it had originally, which is nothing more than a clue of to wherever the treasure is, and couldn't even be Scotland", he gave a sarcastic laugh. "And also, we assume those copies were sent to Avery's crew, but we don't know who they are because that information, if still exists, could be among the few documents stolen in a fire more than fifty years ago"

Aya was biting her lip again, nodding slowly while Rafe stopped, leaning against the fireplace with one hand in his pocket. The heavy silence had been resounding: it was the confirmation that they were screwed.

"How did you get Burnes letter?" Aya said, pretending to save the tension. "Maybe we can track whoever may have those documents..."

"It wasn't mine"

Nathan Drake. Without saying it, Aya knew what Rafe feared was, if Avery's pirate gymkhana had no other way, they had to go through the treasure hunter's.

"That's why you're the one here" Rafe concluded. He pulled his left hand out of his pocket and looked at his watch. He took one last drag to his cigar while he overcame the distance separating him from Aya, and released the smoke when they were both within inches. "Do whatever you have to do to find another cross, if you want you can find out who the fuck was Avery's granny, but I don't wanna know anything about Nathan Drake. Have I been clear enough?"

Rafe turned off the cigar on the ashtray on the desk, having to lean slightly on Aya. He looked the woman up and down like he was used to, until he fixed his gray eyes on her green ones with a smile.

"You're doing better than I thought"

Aya clung tightly to the table, keeping her composure in front of that overwhelming energy. Her mind traveled in a déjà vu to the William Myers' office, just a couple of months ago, when Aya had felt for the first time that uncertainty of not knowing what kind of thoughts could cross Rafe's head, and if it was prudent to fear him. Rafe had clear power mechanisms, or it was the mention of Nathan Drake what made him lose his mind. Until that day, he had not been particularly invasive again, although Aya had not taken up the topic of the treasure hunter either. Much to her chagrin, she would have to forget to mention him for a while, though she doubted one day Rafe would find himself in an enough good mood to talk about it.

Finally, Rafe moved towards the door. Before leaving the room, he gave one last icy glare. Aya held her breath until she heard the door closing and Rafe's steps away. She walked around the desk and flopped down on the chair, missing another cigar. It was clear: she should not tell him about Nathan Drake, at least in a closed room. But, if she had no more clues of who might know about Henry Avery's crew...

"Should I get an ouija to contact Samuel Drake?" she whispered to himself.

Aya rolled her eyes at her own thinking. She had no choice but to be lucky to find the trail of any evidence that identifies any Fancy's pirate, if not were all clues monopolized by greedy collectors. From there, she should track the legacy of the pirate, to know if he ever possessed a Saint Dismas cross which, fortunately, was not broken. Too complicated. In addition, it involved more people than Rafe probably wanted at that point.

Aya removed the books and paper sheets that crowded the table, looking for her laptop. If the only reference in Joseph Burnes's letter was "the prison of the Spaniards," perhaps it would be necessary to start from some documentation from colonial prisons... She doubted she would be lucky to find a hidden cross in their cells, but some data of confessions about belonging to Avery's crew were enough. It was still cumbersome to think of tracing the steps of a pirate who lived more than three hundred years ago, but she felt she had no choice.

She opened the web browser and typed all the possible combinations between the words "prison", "Spanish colony", "pirate" and "XVII-XVIII centuries", hoping to gather a list of pirates among which to begin to discard a connection with Avery. In none of them appeared Joseph Burnes, which reminded her those sailors were probably forgotten. After all, those who end up in history books were pirate captains.

After diving for a time that felt infinite, she found a web page that seemed absurd: "ten historical places that continue in use today". Bored by her unsuccessful research, she clicked to find in the seventh place of a ranking an "old prison that arrested many pirates inside in the seventeenth century, Spanish colonial era."

"Could it be the prison Rafe talked about in his stories?" Aya thought aloud. She had already verified there did not seem to be any other old prisons in Panama in use and, certainly, the name was familiar ... But she did not remember Rafe mentioning it.

Her heart skipped a little, thinking about another desperate theory. She jumped out of the chair, and when her steps had already taken her to the door, she stopped. Maybe it was not a good idea to consult it with Rafe. She went back to the desk, nibbling on her index finger. After a few seconds of hesitation, she looked in the desk drawers for a blank sheet of paper and an envelope. In it, she wrote the name of that prison, foA deep exhalation came out of her mouth, blurring the views of the city lying at her feet. She dropped the weight of her body against the frame of the window, closed against the cold March Scottish wind. Aya found Edinburgh's architecture quite fascinating, even when she thought she had lost the capacity of being amazed after so many places where she has lived. After tedious hours of bibliographical research, if it was appropriate to name it that way, she could not help but let her eyes, already tired, wander over that medieval city she had hardly tasted as she wished.

In two months, her days had been limited to diving among the files Rafe had gathered during thirteen years of inquiries and, despite everything, seemed not to be enough. Aya would almost affirm Rafe himself had assumed that destiny, since the first time she entered there the dust was the main protagonist. At least now she had a clean office... But not especially organized.

Aya looked over her shoulder at the boxes full of notebooks and papers, which rose in number from where she stood, behind the desk, to the opposite wall, mingling with the large shelves and generating an entire ecosystem that contaminated every corner of the room. It was a fairly large one, she guessed that it suited Rafe and his walks when his mind rambled.

Three firm knocks at the half-open door of her new office took her out of her reverie. Turning around, Rafe's gray eyes greeted her, and without a word, he closed behind him. Then, Aya realized he was bringing a cup of steaming coffee.

"I know it's hard for you to ask Brenda for it" he explained. Certainly, Aya did not look kindly at having secretaries as waitresses. "But if you don't take a break your mind won't be useful"

Without losing sight of Aya's face, as usual, Rafe advanced towards her until he placed the cup on the table, finding with some effort a gap between the paper sheets with the anarchic calligraphy of the woman which crowded the surface. He glanced at them, with a tilted smile.

"Thanks, Rafe"

It was one of the few times Rafe could perceive in Aya's voice a hint of surprise, although it was not the first time he showed certain gestures of kindness. Rafe returned his eyes to Aya's and simply shrugged. He began to walk away slowly, putting both hands inside the pockets of his suit trousers, and examining the room as if he had never stepped there. The Adler empire's heir never lost his elegance, and every day went to his office, on the top floor where Aya was, as flawless as he could. That day, Rafe wore a dark gray suit with a white shirt, no tie. Aya identified it as one of his favorites, although she could imagine the spaciousness of his wardrobe, but she had seen it on more than one occasion lately. She felt it even helped Rafe to be in a better mood, which could be very useful to her that day. As always, his hair was pulled back, leaving his pale face free.

Aya tried to offer a good physical appearance, but she had decided not to be influenced by the dress code among Rafe Adler employees. Instead, she used to wear dark pants combined with different pairs of boots adapted to her means of transport, a classic Triumph Truxton, as well as a leather jacket which was laying on the back of the chair behind the desk.

Her uniform required the comfort of her dark brown hair always collected, usually in a long braid falling on her back. The rivers of ink running through her olive skin could be seen in her arms, those which Rafe did not notice the day they met.

Contrary to what Aya could have believed at first, Rafe did not complain at her particular style despite his own tastes, since at the end of the day he considered Aya's work particularly different from any worker in the building, and important enough not to force her to adjust to trivialities. In a way, Aya's comfort served to his own benefit, and she even saw Rafe found some amusement in her small transgressions. They reminded both of them who was the one who actually had the power, unlike their relationship with Myers.

"Guess you are bored as hell there, at the top of your pyramid"

Rafe gave a slight laugh.

"Just a little. I have to wait for a new associate and, well, I was hoping you could tell me something useful in the meantime"

Beyond his criminal tasks in the art market, Rafe continued carrying on daily the inherited business from his parents, which he had placed in Edinburgh, about fifty miles from the location of the San Dimas Cathedral. Despite this, Rafe had assured they would not return to the excavation until discovering new clues, and as things were going, Aya felt she would not end up seeing that location with her own eyes.

"So you need some information to show off with that new associate"

"More or less" Rafe kept a lopsided smile, still scanning the surroundings. "You'll know why when you meet her"

After Rafe's attitudes, Aya was surprised at how willing he seemed to be to have women by his side. 'Maybe it's his version of being desperate' her mind concluded.

"Actually, there aren't any news" she finally replied. "I haven't advanced much"

"Those notes there seem interesting"

Aya sat on the big chair behind the desk, not avoiding a snort. Rafe did the same with the sofa next to the fireplace, to the left of Aya and in front of the door. That situation was already the ritual of when Rafe came to know the progress of his explorer.

"Just desperate theories".

"Better than nothing" he concluded. "I wanna hear you"

The woman took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. While she took a sip of coffee, Rafe pulled a sumptuous silver cigarette case from his jacket and extracted a cigarette that soon came to his mouth. Aya knew that Rafe did not smoke often, being a man quite concerned about his physical performance, and in fact, he did not usually let himself be seen with a cigar in his mouth in front of anyone. Both agreed about that, but added the stress she had accumulated in recent weeks, Aya could not refuse when he offered the open cigarette case.

Aya caught an Antique Copper Zippo from the table and approached Rafe, offering him a flame with which he could light his cigar. She picked up one of Rafe's and went back to the desk, this time leaning on it. Her index and middle fingers placed the nicotine cylinder between her lips, still trying to find the right words while she lit the lighter again. Shortly after, she felt the warm, dry smoke coming down her larynx, reminding her that she should definitely abandon that vice, even if it was punctual. She released a deep sigh contaminated with tobacco, playing with the Zippo in her hands while thinking.

"We may need to take a step back" started Aya.

Rafe arched an eyebrow, without articulating any sound. He tapped his cigar on the ashtray on the side table, taking a deep drag later. She imitated him, which allowed her to evade Rafe's icy eyes for a moment while looking with his eyes a second ashtray, on the desk. She took another sip of coffee before continuing talking.

"I think, until now, everything has been false steps"

"Do you think a thirteen-year investigation it's useless?" interrupted Rafe, visibly irritated.

Aya sighed. She knew that even though Rafe himself was probably thinking the same, it was not nice to hear it from someone else.

"The cross has always been the key if you were looking for some kind of map, or whatever it had inside ..."

"Yes, but there was nothing left inside when I found it," Rafe cut again her speech, noticing a bit of weariness in his voice. "I had to look for other ways, obviously"

"The problem is there are no other ways" said Aya firmly. She was finding out how not to be overwhelmed by the stubborn attitude of the businessman. "Avery was the most wanted pirate captain in the world at that time, he would have to hide his treasure too well. Avery wanted that there wasn't another way to find it than to follow the path he marked, step by step. Without following all the tracks in order, you can't reach the end"

"A goddamn gymkhana..."

Rafe exhaled hard, throwing himself against the back of the sofa, but still not losing his upright posture. The swaying of his right foot was the only sign of his nervousness, which made his left leg tremble across his knee.

"Something like that" said Aya. She bit her lip, leaving her gaze lost, before continuing. "You could keep combing the cathedral, but at the risk of being thirteen more years without finding anything because, perhaps, the treasure is elsewhere"

Then, Aya looked back at Rafe. She did not know if at some point he had taken his eyes off her.

"Yeah, I supposed all of this before you told me." He stopped, inhaling the smoke with another puff. "The problem is you're confirming we are screwed"

"Not necessarily" Aya replied. "We have to recover the trace from Saint Dismas cross..."

"Do I really have to tell you again that fucking cross was hollow? Besides, I don't even have it"

Aya frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Would you mind stopping interrupting me? Or you could just wait until I find results on my own"

Rafe rolled his eyes, and with a mocking gesture, indicated her with his hand to continue.

"What do you know about Joseph Burnes?" Aya continued.

"Just what I remember about the letter. He was a member of the Fancy's crew"

"Is there any reason why Avery would give the only clue to his treasure to a single pirate?" Rafe narrowed his eyes at Aya's question, looking this time at an infinite point behind her. "It's not that Burnes was someone so special for being the only one to win the jackpot".

Like a spring, Rafe sat up and stared at Aya again.

"Avery made more than one cross," he whispered.

"To divide the treasure among those who had participated in the Gunsway Heist".

Rafe began giving his particular walks from left to right, a moment Aya took advantage of to finish the rest of the coffee. Finally, he stopped to address her again.

"Forget all of this and focus on finding another cross, then"

Aya sighed once more. She was beginning to feel like on a roller coaster.

"But if we have to find a cross, we should know who was part of Avery's crew." Rafe raised an eyebrow, seeing no problem. Aya hastened to clarify: "Those data haven't transcended, and the little known was lost in a fire at a university in charge of an investigation about it around the sixties. Probably few things survived and had gone from hand to hand, or from robbery to robbery"

"As Burnes letter"

"Exactly"

Rafe was rubbing his jaw, still walking across the room. Neither of them knew if they had found good news or bad news.

"Let me get this straight" Rafe rushed to clarify. "We need to find one of the copies of the Saint Dismas cross that still has inside whatever it had originally, which is nothing more than a clue of to wherever the treasure is, and couldn't even be Scotland", he gave a sarcastic laugh. "And also, we assume those copies were sent to Avery's crew, but we don't know who they are because that information, if still exists, could be among the few documents stolen in a fire more than fifty years ago"

Aya was biting her lip again, nodding slowly while Rafe stopped, leaning against the fireplace with one hand in his pocket. The heavy silence had been resounding: it was the confirmation that they were screwed.

"How did you get Burnes letter?" Aya said, pretending to save the tension. "Maybe we can track whoever may have those documents..."

"It wasn't mine"

Nathan Drake. Without saying it, Aya knew what Rafe feared was, if Avery's pirate gymkhana had no other way, they had to go through the treasure hunter's.

"That's why you're the one here" Rafe concluded. He pulled his left hand out of his pocket and looked at his watch. He took one last drag to his cigar while he overcame the distance separating him from Aya, and released the smoke when they were both within inches. "Do whatever you have to do to find another cross, if you want you can find out who the fuck was Avery's granny, but I don't wanna know anything about Nathan Drake. Have I been clear enough?"

Rafe turned off the cigar on the ashtray on the desk, having to lean slightly on Aya. He looked the woman up and down like he was used to, until he fixed his gray eyes on her green ones with a smile.

"You're doing better than I thought"

Aya clung tightly to the table, keeping her composure in front of that overwhelming energy. Her mind traveled in a déjà vu to the William Myers' office, just a couple of months ago, when Aya had felt for the first time that uncertainty of not knowing what kind of thoughts could cross Rafe's head, and if it was prudent to fear him. Rafe had clear power mechanisms, or it was the mention of Nathan Drake what made him lose his mind. Until that day, he had not been particularly invasive again, although Aya had not taken up the topic of the treasure hunter either. Much to her chagrin, she would have to forget to mention him for a while, though she doubted one day Rafe would find himself in an enough good mood to talk about it.

Finally, Rafe moved towards the door. Before leaving the room, he gave one last icy glare. Aya held her breath until she heard the door closing and Rafe's steps away. She walked around the desk and flopped down on the chair, missing another cigar. It was clear: she should not tell him about Nathan Drake, at least in a closed room. But, if she had no more clues of who might know about Henry Avery's crew...

"Should I get an ouija to contact Samuel Drake?" she whispered to himself.

Aya rolled her eyes at her own thinking. She had no choice but to be lucky to find the trail of any evidence that identifies any Fancy's pirate, if not were all clues monopolized by greedy collectors. From there, she should track the legacy of the pirate, to know if he ever possessed a Saint Dismas cross which, fortunately, was not broken. Too complicated. In addition, it involved more people than Rafe probably wanted at that point.

Aya removed the books and paper sheets that crowded the table, looking for her laptop. If the only reference in Joseph Burnes's letter was "the prison of the Spaniards," perhaps it would be necessary to start from some documentation from colonial prisons... She doubted she would be lucky to find a hidden cross in their cells, but some data of confessions about belonging to Avery's crew were enough. It was still cumbersome to think of tracing the steps of a pirate who lived more than three hundred years ago, but she felt she had no choice.

She opened the web browser and typed all the possible combinations between the words "prison", "Spanish colony", "pirate" and "XVII-XVIII centuries", hoping to gather a list of pirates among which to begin to discard a connection with Avery. In none of them appeared Joseph Burnes, which reminded her those sailors were probably forgotten. After all, those who end up in history books were pirate captains.

After diving for a time that felt infinite, she found a web page that seemed absurd: "ten historical places that continue in use today". Bored by her unsuccessful research, she clicked to find in the seventh place of a ranking an "old prison that arrested many pirates inside in the seventeenth century, Spanish colonial era."

"Could it be the prison Rafe talked about in his stories?" Aya thought aloud. She had already verified there did not seem to be any other old prisons in Panama in use and, certainly, the name was familiar ... But she did not remember Rafe mentioning it.

Her heart skipped a little, thinking about another desperate theory. She jumped out of the chair, and when her steps had already taken her to the door, she stopped. Maybe it was not a good idea to consult it with Rafe. She went back to the desk, nibbling on her index finger. After a few seconds of hesitation, she looked in the desk drawers for a blank sheet of paper and an envelope. In it, she wrote the name of that prison, followed by the destinatary: Fausto Dávalos.


	4. The Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was silly to wait for you to call me someday  
> But I will never show, never show  
> How much it hurt me that you never did  
> Never did call me back  
> — ''Call me'', Ashton Traitor

A dull thud slipped through the wrinkled clothes laying on the floor. Aya opened her eyes cautiously, trying to guess the source of the sound while leaning on her elbows. From her position, lying on the bed, she could only sharpen her hearing until it was familiar: the vibration of her mobile phone. Before sitting up she looked to her left, trying to catch a glimpse of the congested face of her new Scottish friend. The gloom allowed her to observe his naked torso, still breathing heavily.

"Very timely"

"At least it hasn't spoiled the party" Aya replied with a smirk.

Aya got rid of the sheets that barely covered her legs and crawled across the mattress to the foot of the bed. There, on the floor, shreds of clothes vibrated to the beat of the dim light that was visible through the fabrics. She dived between them with one hand, leaning upside down against the mattress. The room was barely illuminated by the brightness of the street lamps, shaded with translucent curtains that drew on Aya's skin an interplay of lights and shadows, highlighting each curve of her skin only adorned by tattoos. The Scottish was lip-smacking at the sight of her toned back on which long strands of dark hair fell, lowering his gaze from her thin waist to her hips, then her round ass. He approached Aya, and while she continued searching, he allowed himself to trace a path of kisses all over her back.

"Let the ansaphone do its job" He whispered, tempting her. His hands traveled every inch of her sides, descending to her buttocks and squeezing them tightly. Aya bit her lip, making a slight giggle.

"Must be important, it's late" the clock on the nightstand confirmed the shortage of light: it was twelve thirty. The Scottish then lay down the woman's side with a snort as soon as she had finally retrieved the phone. She bent over him, caressing with her fingers his lightly stubbled jawline. "Don't worry, we're not done yet"

That statement made the man smile broadly, which soon vanished when he looked at Aya's face as she read who was the sender.

"What's goin' on?" he asked, nervous.

"It's Panama area code ..." Aya whispered, ignoring her companion.

"Panama? The fuck...?"

He shut up as soon as Aya got up on the bed, picking up the phone. All kinds of expressions of confusion were reflected in his face, but Aya ignored him as soon as she heard the robotic voice of a woman speaking in Spanish. She claimed that Aya received a call from the Panamanian prison where Fausto Dávalos was.

"¿Desea aceptar la llamada?" ("Do you want to accept the call?") the voice concluded.

"Sí, acepto" ("Yes, I do") Aya replied in the same language. He looked at the Scot, who was leaning the left side of his body on the bed watching her with raised eyebrows. She supposed he would be quite disconcerted already — they did not know each other enough so he knew about her native tongue, although her own English accent sometimes revealed it.

The phone returned the repetitive sound of a call waiting. Aya took the chance to stand up, turning on the bedside light and catching her underwear and T-shirt from the floor. The Scot still had an expression of disbelief, even funnier when the light hit his blue eyes accustomed to the darkness.

"Sorry, Ian. It's from work" Aya said quickly. Still unanswered on the other side of the line, she finished adjusting her shirt. "Won't be more than five minutes"

If she did not remember wrong, that was the time inmates were allowed to talk on the phone.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone then" Ian shrugged, sitting up and stretching his arms with a loud yawn. Aya smiled, watching his muscles tense his naked body under the slight sheen of sweat. "You want somethin' to drink?"

"Just a glass of water, thanks"

As Ian left the bedroom adjusting his underpants, closing the door behind him, Aya was spinning around the bedroom like a caged animal, nibbling on her index finger. She was grateful Ian had gotten the message and left the room since she was not interested at all in him knowing the details of the conversation. In any case, she could bet he had no idea of any word in Spanish, which was one more point in her favor.

A familiar voice interrupted her ramblings:

"Aya?"

Aya felt the beating of her heart piercing her chest, stopping in the middle of the room. The voice of Fausto Dávalos made his way through the telephone with quiet harshness, pronouncing her name as if it came from the depths of his bowels.

"Hi, Fausto".

"Holy shit..." a choked laugh interrupted his own words "it's good to hear you after so long"

The woman noticed a sarcastic tinkle in his words. In just a few seconds, she was feeling exasperated.

"Depends on you if I can say the same thing" Aya said sharply. "Let's get down to business, okay?"

"How are you?" Fausto ignored her allegedly, provoking in Aya a sigh of weariness.

"Cut the bullshit..."

A joking laugh filtered through the other side of the line. Aya rubbed her eyes, noticing the first symptoms of physical and mental fatigue.

"At least tell me how Aela is doing" he continued, simulating a smooth tone in his voice.

"As if you cared" Aya whispered to herself, at a volume not low enough.

"Of course I care"

"For God's sake, Fausto..." Aya pushed the phone away from her ear for a moment and took a deep breath as she ran her hand through her matted hair, pulling it away from her face. She was beginning to lose her temper. "Just don't try to buy time to push me easier later"

"Come on, I was having a little fun" he said, keeping his braggart. Then, he gave an exaggerated snort of resignation. "You didn't use to be that serious"

"You better get used to it now" Aya held her breath briefly, sitting on the edge of the bed. She was looking for the words to deal with the matter as quickly and as cleanly as possible. "Anyway, I guess you got the letter with no problems"

"Yeah, but they thought it was weird I got a letter from my wifey after so much time"

"Ex-wifey" she pointed out.

"You sure?" a burst of devilish laughter tinged Fausto's words. "You were so romantic in that letter"

Aya did not bother to hide a loud snort. Both had ended their conjugal bond shortly before Fausto was arrested, more than six years ago, and despite everything, he lost no opportunity to throw sassy flirtations. While Fausto remained under arrest in Colombia, Aya tried to help him escape from his confinement communicating by letter using an encryption, created by both when they worked together, which she had reused for that occasion. At that time, Fausto's love games sometimes worked, although Aya soon knew enough evidence about the true nature of his disloyal actions against her. She had eliminated all contact with him while he was transferred to the Panamanian prison. It had been almost five years since she had not heard his voice.

"Are you no longer able to distinguish a cover?" Aya did not know how orthodox prison officials were with correspondence, and it was not strange they could ignore privacy rules, so she had adorned the content of the letter with the sweetness of a girlfriend. "You must be quite desperate"

"You think so?" he replied. "I'm sure you still think of me"

For a moment, Aya caught a hint of seriousness in his husky voice, almost a plea. She shook her head, dismissing any hint of sympathy.

"Not for anything good" she said. Aya could not deny she had fond memories of her years with Fausto, but she had finally convinced herself the man in her memories was not the same one she spoke with at the time. "There's so much time left for you behind bars so you should stop fooling yourself"

"I know exactly where I am, my love. Not like you" Fausto continued, maintaining the severity in his words. "I heard you're still in business"

"You've heard wrong"

"I don't believe you, you should be if you go after Avery" he said. "Good treasure, not your style though. Who do you work for now?"

Aya rolled her eyes as if Fausto could see her. She would not have cared, knowing that he hated that kind of gesture, and at that moment she would have given anything to make him uncomfortable. It used to be the game of their relationship: a constant tug-of-war that ended in passionate extremes, good and bad.

"I need money" she replied, ignoring his question as if such a statement was a sufficient answer. "Are you going to tell me what you've discovered?"

Fausto snorted again exaggeratedly, in an apparent surrender to the stubbornness of the woman.

"There are many fools around here who love to talk about what they'll do when they leave" he said, finally giving in. "Some stories are hard to believe, but when you told me about that pirate I had some questions to ask"

"You don't have to know more than necessary" Aya argued, interrupting him. "I just asked you to find out if there are files, maps or a fucking rumor, if necessary — any shit useful enough"

Being a prison of the colonial era, it had locked up in itself a multitude of criminals linked to piracy, which could ensure a historical value relevant enough for it to hoard certain relevant data. Or, at least, that's what Aya wanted to think — it was true its patrimony could have been lost, which is why she needed to get in touch with Fausto before going to Panama on her own foot to come back with nothing to offer. In any case, she thought it would be easier for an inmate to obtain some kind of information in secret, knowing that prison officials were not particularly cooperative without money in between.

"You shouldn't be so ungrateful knowing how lost you are" Fausto maintained a joking air, which Aya remembered in the conversations they had held years ago. "I know the missing link you're looking for"

"Enlighten me"

Aya acknowledged maybe it was not a good idea to abuse of sarcasm in that situation, but she could not help it. Fausto would not be allowed to believe he was gaining ground against her.

"It's a funny story: the day three gringos sneaked into a Panamanian high-security prison" Fausto continued, without being disturbed at all. "Two of them managed to escape with a clue of that treasure. Such a miracle those fags were not given a grave"

"You don't tell me anything new" she replied.

"Because you're unable to imagine who's telling that story"

Aya fell silent. Fausto loved to decorate his stories, add a bit of tension with which to keep his interlocutors attentive to every adventure he was about to tell, but he would not lie when it came to negotiating with information.

"You're shitting me" the only thing that Aya was able to articulate.

"A gringo with three bullet scars in the back, I don't even know how he could make it" in the previous days, Aya had tried to gather some information about in subtle conversations with Rafe. She did not know if he had noticed her intentions, but so far he had not been worried. "That asshole even carries the name of another pirate, and I thought I had seen everything in life. After thirteen years locked up here, he went nuts"

"You mean... The one who couldn't escape..." Aya swallowed as if that calmed the fast beating of her heart. "Is still alive?"

"Yes, but not for long"

There was a sepulchral silence, in which Aya held her breath until she thought she was aware of Fausto's words.

"What do you mean?"

"I have my own terms"

Aya stood up immediately. Fausto had taken a new strategy he had never dared to try before. Five years without any contact seemed to be determinants of the grudge tingling that turn.

"You're not in the best position to negotiate"

"Yes, my love, I am". Aya almost felt Fausto's wolfish smile, like an exhalation on the back of her neck. "If you want to get that son of a bitch out of here, he'll be in feet first if you don't follow my rules"

"I already offered you a deal to get out of there, isn't that enough?"

"A ridiculous deal, do you think what I'm giving you in return worths that shit?" Fausto retorted, turning to a more aggressive tone. "You always said it's better to bargain in business. What would be the point of getting out of here without an extra little help?"

Aya went back up and down the bedroom furiously. She kept her mouth puckered, wondering at what moment she had begun to lose the reins of her life facing constant blackmails, first from Rafe, and now from Fausto. As regards to Henry Avery, she felt she had no control at all.

"So?" she let herself be overcome, slowing the pace of her strides. "What's on your mind?"

"Ten percent of the treasure" said Fausto. "Half up front, of course. I have to rebuild my life"

With a strangled sigh, she dropped back onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her left hand. That amount of money could be petty cash for Rafe Adler, but it had become clear to Aya how tired the businessman was of investing his fortune in the bottomless pit that was already the Gunsway's treasure.

"You're the one who's going nuts".

"I think it's a good price for his life" Fausto continued to speak with an almost innocent gesture as if only logical statements came out of his mouth. "And, if I return to that business you say no longer exists, I'll give you a hand. You'll need it after thirteen years without finding anything"

"I'm not interested in your help, and I can't even guarantee what you want"

"Don't try to fool me, Aya. I know who your friends are now". The low whisper in Fausto's voice had darkened even more. "Those are my terms, sort it out for yourself. You've always been very good at it"

There was a heavy silence again, in which Aya remained staring at infinity with her left hand now closed in a fist. Maybe expecting some kind of compensation because his goings-on almost ended her life was too much to ask.

"Why are you so sure I won't get away with it and you will continue rotting in that prison?" Aya asked then, in a somewhat delicate argument when exposing her intentions. Fausto would be the idiot he never was if he had not wielded his terms without thinking about the possibility of Aya betraying him, and she could not help knowing how he could ensure his victory in that situation.

"Because I know what you do apart from playing Indiana Jones. I made the rules of the business, Aya. Don't you forget it"

Aya was biting her lips hard, unable to process any words with which to defend herself. It should not surprise her that she could be watched, but the confirmation made her feel a hole in her stomach. If Fausto still had loyal people behind him, it implied that any false step would make her lose everything she had fought during those years.

"You have two weeks to give me what I want. Then, you can be sure your gringo will come out of here safe and sound" continued Faust, retaking the joking tone. "After all, nobody outside this prison knew he survived until now. He won't be missed".

"You neither if you disappear" she replied, a harsh tone of aggressiveness catching up in her voice.

"You sure? Looks like, after all this time, I'm going to save your pretty ass"

Aya impacted her closed hand against the mattress, biting her lip hard. She could not think of any possible way to avoid giving in to her ex-husband's requests.

"I got to go." Fausto sighed, catching a feigned nostalgia in him. "What a shame, I was having a great time. See you soon, my love"

"But..."

"I'll call you if I think of something else to negotiate"

"Fuck you, Fausto"

A last mocking laugh echoed through the receiver.

"Always a pleasure"

Aya hung up the phone pressing the touch screen with fury and throwing it into the pile of clothes from which she had rescued it. She threw her body back, lying on the bed, and took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. She had not yet told Rafe the improvised movement that had led her to that conversation with Fausto, and she still did not know if she had good or bad news. Of course, she had obtained a powerful source of information ... Whose life hung by a thread if she did not give in to a new blackmail. Aya did not know what had happened so in the last months she ended up rocking between convoluted manipulations, although she suspected that she had an unpleasant name: despair. After two months without results, in just a few hours she had to act fast if she did not want Fausto to come up with happier ideas while sharpening an improvised knife. Acting fast was her only option.

She collected all her belongings from the floor of Ian's room, dressing as she found the clothes she was missing. Retrieving her phone for the last time, it reminded her again of the late hour it was, but she should not doubt when it was the only reliable track she had achieved so far. In the contacts agenda, she searched for Rafe Adler's number and dialed, holding the phone between her shoulder and her ear while fastening her lace-up boots. Afterwards, she went to the closed door of the room, still without an answer, until she heard the female voice of the answering machine. She hung up without bothering to leave a message, out of the room at last.

Sitting on the couch, can of soda in hand and leaning over his laptop, Ian returned a smile to Aya. Soon he frowned when he realized she was wearing more clothes than he expected.

"You leave?" the Scot said.

Aya smiled uncomfortably, standing in her tracks.

"Yes, uh ... I'm so sorry. Work stuff, you know".

Ian handed her the glass of water he had left on the table, from which she had not noticed.

"Didn't know librarians were so busy" Ian offered a wide grin, though Aya doubted he really was satisfied with a vague explanation.

She felt she needed to build some kind of excuse. After all, it would not be very common for a librarian to receive calls at midnight. Aya took the opportunity to drink in one gulp, allowing herself some time to think.

"We were expecting a ... " Aya avoided looking away from Ian's face, trying to sound sincere. "Some documents of the University of Panama, from the colonialism period. And, well... They arrive tomorrow"

"Tomorrow, Saturday?" Ian answered, visibly surprised. "That's well radge"

Until then, it seemed to work. Aya would not have imagined that anyone could believe her profession was being a librarian, although in the last two months it was the closest thing to what she had dedicated to. Anyway, Aya was careful not to get involved romantically with anyone to care about the details of her profession, and she spotted on perfectly with Ian.

"Yeah, I'm so pissed off" Aya did not have to hide her gesture of weariness, helping to give credibility to the improvised story. "But I have no choice but to get up early tomorrow, so ... I better go home".

Meanwhile Aya set the glass on the table and picked up her canvas messenger bag, close to where Ian sat. As Aya gathered her hair looking at herself in the entrance mirror, communicated with the living room of the small apartment, Ian slowly approached the woman with a doubtful gesture, scratching the back of his neck.

"Hey..." Ian clear his throat. "You can stay, if you want"

Aya gave him a side glance and a tilted smile as she wiped with her finger a rest of mascara staining the skin under her eyes. She sighed and turned to him, gently stroking his incipient beard.

"You're so cute" she whispered. She fixed her green eyes on his blue ones, which sparkled with satisfaction. She lowered her gaze to his lips, and give him a gentle kiss. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

Ian gave a slight pout, finally turned into a smile of resignation. After a brief farewell in which Aya grabbed the helmet of her motorcycle and dressed in her leather jacket, she left the apartment. It was not until she left the elevator when she tried again to contact Rafe, giving her time to go outside and settle on her black Triumph Thruxton. After up to three calls, the businessman finally gave in to her insistence.

"Finally!" she greeted him. "Have I interrupted your sweet dreams?"

Aya heard a grunt through the earpiece, provoking her a silent laugh.

"No, Aya" she could hear Rafe clearing his throat on the other side of the line. "I'm... busy"

"On Friday night? No way! Guess you were not the only one"

She had managed to get her sarcasm make a slight laugh from Rafe from time to time. Certain mocking attitudes of Aya seemed to work with Rafe, maybe because then they both understood what had taken their time on a weekend night.

"Okay, whatever. What's going on?" said Rafe.

"We have to talk as soon as possible, in person. There's a lot of paperwork to do"

Perhaps Aya had assumed very quickly Rafe would lend himself to Fausto's concessions, but she was not willing to show insecurity and further delay the procedures they should carry out.

"Wait, what? Paperwork?" Rafe stopped for a few moments, between babblings. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Samuel Drake is alive"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my best to adapt to each character something of their own slang, I don’t know if I’ll have screwed up with the Scot - feel free to correct me, as I always say.
> 
> Also, the conversation over the phone is entirely in Spanish, but it’s quite long so I kept it written in English.


	5. The Wheel of Fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We fight every night for something  
> When the sun sets we're both the same  
> Half in the shadows  
> Half-burned in flames  
> — ''Beautiful Crime'', Tamer.

A shrill alarm stabbed Aya's eardrums when the guard who accompanied her opened the door. That place had a modernized security system, and although it was not comparable to other maximum security prisons, it had nothing to envy the Colombian prison where Aya tried to help Fausto escape more than five years ago. She remembered when there both had been able to make conjugal visits frequently, but in the Panamanian jail it had cost them a few hundred dollars more to bribe the warden, apart from what they already had negotiated.

The room behind the door showed they had been deprived of the minimum luxury typical of those visits, due to the irregularity of the process. It was a practically empty room, furnished by a metal table in its center and a chair on either side of it, facing each other. Aya believed to be in a place destined to unofficial interrogations since it was not security cameras or some translucent mirror; only a window with thick iron bars and from which came the sound of the waves breaking against the rocks. From the doorway Aya could see they had not spared in security measures with Fausto, who was leaning his handcuffed hands on the table, fingers interlaced. From them hung a chain attached to a steel washer on the floor, as if he were a dangerous animal. The guard held the door open with one hand, telling Aya to come in.

"¿Esto es una visita conyugal en Panamá?" ("Is this a conjugal visit in Panama?") Aya said, scrutinizing the jumble of chains that fell between Fausto's legs. In a way, she was relieved not to be alone in a room with her ex-husband's free hands.

"Es él quien tiene las manos atadas, no usted" ("It’s him who has his hands tied, not you") the guard replied, with a joking smile. "Diviértase, señora Dávalos" ("Have fun, Mrs. Dávalos").

Aya contained as much air as she could in her lungs, ignoring his dirty comment, and entered the room closing the door behind her. She remained without moving a single centimeter of her position, scrutinizing who had been her partner long ago as if it were the first time she saw him. Those years of imprisonment had made a dent in him, retaining a particularly different aspect than Aya remembered. His black hair as night looked shorter then, revealing having shaved his head a few weeks ago. The dark skin of his arms, visible under the uniform's rolled-up shirt, could barely find an empty space on which to print the ink of new tattoos, although the muscles marked on it were even stronger than they once were.

"Señora Dávalos..." Fausto chuckled. "How I missed hearing it. That gringo surname you put on doesn't do you justice"

Fausto analyzed Aya's figure as she went to the chair in front of him. She moved slowly, analyzing equally each gesture of Fausto, trying to precede his next move. His face still inspired an intimidating air concentrated into the tension of his frown and his square jaw, over which peppered a beard of several days. Aya recalled how that aggressive appearance used to be broken by a spark of mischief in his deep brown eyes, in which there were those who swore to find the orange colors of a fiery hell. That combination of danger and amusement had been the most addictive pleasure she had ever known, but that time it was not playful perversity flowing from his eyes. Rather, Fausto seemed to pierce her being with a look of feverish madness struggling to explode.  
"Don't get your hopes up, I had to find our marriage certificate to convince the warden" Aya sat down, avoiding losing visual contact. "I'm already sticking my neck out by using that name"

Fausto raised an eyebrow, still not moving an inch of his body. He then looked over Aya's torso, licking his lips at the generous view her tank top offered, thanking the Panamanian warmth. Finally, he stopped in her hands entwined on the table, having imitated his own posture.

"Gonzalez's suggestion is tempting," he began, referring to the guard. "But I'm worried you're holding your hands too empty. Where's my money?"

Aya rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Would you relax? I just told you it wasn’t easy". She sighed, beginning to feel her nerves in her foot moving up and down against the floor, forcing herself to stop it. "Rafe is talking to the warden right now"

"Rafe?" Fausto gave a slight laugh. "What kind of asshole is called like that?"

"Yeah, he's actually an asshole" Aya had not been able to avoid catching a small laugh, but soon rose again on the seat, refusing to lose her composure. "But a rich asshole, isn't it what you're interested in?"

"I'm interested in knowing why you're after a pirate treasure" he said in a mocking tone. "I thought your goals went the other way"

Aya relaxed her arms for a moment, letting them fall on her lap.

"I've rearranged my priorities" she shrugged with a feigned smile adorning her face. "I need money"

Fausto still kept his hands on the table, but he let the weight of his body fall on the back of the chair. He looked away from Aya, biting the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

"You don't work for anyone if it's not for yourself" he fixed his dark eyes on Aya again, with a self-satisfied smile. "It's not about money. Come on, tell me, what's obsessing you this time?"

She remained silent, holding his gaze. Fausto made a quick movement with his foot allowing him to move the chair closer, bending over the table to overcome the centimeters that separated him from Aya.

"It's because of that gringo?" his voice had worsened with his whisper, causing her to frown. "Maybe I should've killed him..."

"As you love to breaking my balls, I'm surprised you didn't do it"  
"Always thinking the worst of me" he replied with evident retching. Then, as if she had seen a mirage, his gesture seemed to soften: "I could help you get it this time, Aya"

She briefly looked away, without having changed their position at any time. The painful reality supposed Fausto was, unfortunately, the most suitable person with whom to collaborate in her own mission. After all, both had been the fundamental support of the other in their respective obsessions, so that no one would know more about her purpose than himself. Precisely because of that, Aya could not afford to have him by her side after losing his loyalty four years ago.

"I don't want your help"

"Then what?" Fausto retorted, rising again with a snort. "What are we doing here?"

Aya swallowed, preparing her most convincing tone.

"I wanted to talk to you before you took the money and go away God knows where in case you think of doing something... inconvenient for my interests". Fausto frowned, trying to find out to what extent Aya confirmed his suspicions about the business. "So also I kill some time, Rafe preferred to negotiate alone with the warden"

He let the air out of his lungs through his nose in a kind of resigned snort, shaking his head.

"You talk as if you were his bitch"

Aya arched an eyebrow.

"Sounds weird to you?" she snapped. "I was yours once"

Fausto leaned back on the table, sharpening his gaze and twisting his mouth in an angry pout.

"Don't be cynical. I've never treated you that way"

"You did from the moment you decided to trade with us" Aya had approached her face in the same way, standing a few inches away from him.

"You never understood what this business is about" Faustus pressed his lips, looking at an infinite point behind her; any traces of pleasantry had disappeared from his face. "That morality of yours is what has always made you been three paces behind"

"Is that your conclusion about me?" Aya offered a skeptical, almost mocking gesture. "I'm not interested in delusions of grandeur, they make you end up dead. Or worse, locked up like a rabid dog"

She had pointed with her head at Fausto’s handcuffed hands, but he ignored the provocation with a resigned smile

"We all have obsessions, my love" he continued, returning his eyes to hers. "They may look different from one another, but in essence all of them are demons"

Aya narrowed her eyes on Fausto, without saying a word.

"Someday you'll learn why I made those decisions," he concluded. "Even you are changing your... priorities"

"So you think one day I should forgive you for betraying me?" the woman interjected, incredulous.

The air separating them seemed to become denser.

"No, but you'll understand." Fausto gave a smile tinged with condescension. "In this world we have built, the end sometimes justifies the means"

Aya remained silent for a moment. She could not deny that during the long sleepless nights following the last time she saw Fausto, her mind kept wandering between the possible reasons that had led him to betray her. It was true that the moral schemes of both have never been particularly honest, but she could not forgive that Fausto had risked her life in exchange for nothing.

"What were you looking for, Fausto?" Aya replied then. "You were against something too big for a long time to be able to content yourself. Just look at how you ended"

"How do you think you will end?" he asked, bringing his hands to Aya's.

She lowered her gaze, observing how Fausto's great hands, sprinkled with scars and ink under his skin, sought a rough brush against hers, which did not want to react. In her remembrances, they had rarely been exempt from their singular coarseness, but the vigorous firmness of his touch on her skin was something that Aya had once grown accustomed to without regrets — she had rarely recognized Fausto's warmth in other hands, and she was sure he was fully aware of the effect he caused. In a timely déjà vu, Aya extracted from her memory the clear image of a situation exactly opposite, more than a decade ago: her handcuffed hands were wrapped by Fausto's, an unknown man willing to get her out of jail. That was the same man she did not hesitate to see in his hands shine an alliance, but he disappeared the day he put one foot behind bars.

"That's why you will understand me" Fausto continued. "After all, you and I are wired the same"

His thumb caressed the back of Aya's hand, which made her raise her eyes to face Fausto one last time.  
"There's a big difference between the two of us" Aya concluded, curving the corner of her mouth in a gesture full of irony. "I'm not willing to lose, whatever it takes"  
_______________________________

The sky was dyed with a vivid orange tone, still not being overcomed by the darkness of the first traces of sunset. He did not usually see the last lights the sun offered beyond the painful sight the small window in his cell showed — it was the blinding sun of midday in the courtyard, aggressive and ardent, the one that he was tired of feeling. But that light was different, almost poetic, pointing the way to the exit of that hell. In spite of everything, his feet trembled with each step he took approaching the threshold of the main gate. The last time he tried to cross the barriers of the prison was how he ended his life as it was known to him. He had wondered many times how much worthed it to live one day more, and if death could be his best reward. Finally his torture was over but at that moment, facing his freedom, he still doubted.

An imposing black sedan with tinted windows broke the view of the road outside the penitentiary. Above the passenger door, a man was leaning with his arms crossed, a man who was not Nathan. He grabbed the handles of his rickety luggage bag and placed it on his right shoulder with a deep snort. His steps were still heavy and hesitant, as his sight allowed him to glimpse the identity of his rescuer: the same person in whose responsibility was the thirteen years he had lived poorly locked up there. He doubted he wanted to compensate him — 'Rafe Adler always wants something in return', he said to himself.

He finished crossing the few meters separating from Rafe, who stood up in time for him to let his light luggage fall to the ground. He did not know if he was able to get used to the idea that it was not Nathan who had saved him, although his brother would hardly know about him — any attempt to contact him had been in vain. Rafe put his hand on his left shoulder, maintaining a smile at his frown.

"I'm glad to see you, Samuel"

Sam looked away again, nodding slightly in an unconscious movement that reflected a tangle of mixed feelings.

"I know I'm not who you expected" Rafe continued, completing Sam's thoughts. He had already put his hand away.

Sam could not find any words to say. He was torn between thanking him as, after all, he was out of prison, but he also felt he had to beat him up for the thirteen years he had suffered in that place.

"Actually, no" he finally replied.

Rafe chuckled, leaning back against the car.

"Sure, I guess I'm not the best company in your first day of freedom. And I get it, honestly"  
Sam shifted the weight from one leg to the other, looking at each side and trying to bite his tongue at how uncomfortable the situation was. He felt the shadow of the prison main door behind him, still open. If he closed his eyes, he could believe he was still inside his cell.

"We'll be gone in a moment, we have to wait for someone" Rafe answered, sensing impatience in Sam. "Maybe you find her company more pleasant while you get used to this"

Sam looked at Rafe with an arched eyebrow.

"Her?"

At first, he wanted to believe the other person they were waiting for was Nathan, but Rafe had made it clear his release from prison had nothing to do with his brother. In any case, he did not know any woman who was interested in getting him out of there, although he knew of some who would not have cared if he was still locked up.

"One step at a time, okay?" Rafe concluded.

He took out his silver cigarette case from the back pocket of his pants. He handed a cigar to Sam, without taking one for himself, and offered a flame from his lighter. After a puff, Sam mimicked Rafe's position, directing his gaze to the prison. It was strange to see it after so many years from that perspective, leaning against that luxurious car smoking a cigarette from the responsible for Vargas' death. Both remained in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, while Sam continued chewing his thoughts. In his head hammered hundreds of questions to ask, without being able to articulate them.

"Those bastards have done good trying to hide your trace" Rafe said at last, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But you've managed to find me" Sam answered, without avoiding a bitter tinge in his voice.

Rafe shrugged.

"Just the usual, a great deal of money and..." Rafe let out a chuckle. "Very good resources. In fact, you don't have to thank me for finding you"

Sam deduced behind it all was the unknown woman, though he still did not understand why: he had nothing useful to offer, except information about a treasure he had assumed to be found. But after so many years in the prison in which he already imagined himself dying, he found himself suddenly rescued by that avaricious businessman. He could not imagine what reasons were enough to get him out of the Panamanian prison, but if it was something about Henry Avery, Sam would not be content with a simple explanation of what happened while he was dead to the rest of the world.

"What do you get out of all this, Rafe?" he asked after puffing on the cigar. He supposed it was the grand summary of his ramblings.  
Rafe exhaled a good amount of air and turned to him, who barely looked at him sideways.

"I don't think now it's the best time to go into details but, well... I need your help".

"Henry Avery, right" Sam summed up. "You've had to do it pretty bad if in thirteen years Nathan and you haven't found anything"

Rafe frowned.

"Your brother wasn't in the mood of looking for the old pirate"

Sam turned his head towards Rafe, a puzzled and frightened expression on his face. He had long wondered why Nathan had nothing to do with his release, and that during all those years he had assumed his brother's ability as a treasure hunter would have earned him a powerful alliance with Rafe to find Avery's treasure, despite the reluctance of both. Such a statement had brought chills all over his body, fearing the worst.

"What are you trying to say?"

With a sigh, Rafe again lost his sight in the direction of the prison entrance, supporting the right side of his body on the car with his hands in his pockets.

"Easy, Samuel. Your baby brother is safe and sound" Rafe replied, looking jaded. "I bought all the land around Saint Dismas cathedral, and we spent a few months combing the area until he decided to leave to find treasures on his own. And you can be sure he hasn't done as badly as I. Anyone can tell you"

He noticed how Rafe tried to contain the anger in his words, which seemed to Sam a momentary proof that he was telling the truth and his brother was safe and sound — apparently, a harsh reality for the businessman. Thinking that Nathan had been able to dedicate himself to what he always thought he was made for, just as they promised as kids, left a slight smile on his lips.

"So you've been digging for yourself for thirteen years?" Sam tried to ignore any thought about his brother. He did not think it was convenient to alter Rafe's emotional state until he was clear about what was happening.

"Basically, yeah. I decided to take it up again after he was long gone, but I kept running into those dead ends as always". He sighed, redirecting his icy gray eyes back to Sam's figure. "The only thing I've advanced it's to find you. It seems there isn't much reliable information about the Gunsway Heist"

Moved by the idyllic dream of getting out of prison, Sam had not stopped reading about all kinds of historical passages regarding Henry Avery, and it was true that little had been written about his treasure. The most valuable thing he had known regarding it was in his mother's notebooks, where he gathered information about her inquiries, and as far as he could tell, there was not much evidence after a fateful fire at the university where she was investigating. Of her belongings, obtained more than twenty-five years ago, they had obtained the letter of Joseph Burnes, with which Nathan found the Saint Dismas Cross.

"So you set me free to work with you finding Henry Avery's treasure" Sam summed up, an irritated nuance in his voice that did not go unnoticed by Rafe.

"That’s what you’ve always wanted, right?". Rafe interposed, trying to convince him. "You said it the day you got me into this"

'I expected to find it with Nathan' Sam concluded in his mind.

"Com'on, Sam. We both deserve it, don't you think?" he continued before his silence. "I want you on this. Then you can go see your little brother and show him what you are capable of. Nate could brag about many things, but can't say he has found the greatest pirate treasure in history"

That statement removed Sam's guts. It was not a lie in his sleepless nights he wondered why he had been deprived of living the adventures he imagined his brother would experience, rotting in jealousy until he fell sleep due to mental exhaustion. Sam had reasons to be envious of his little brother, but it irritated him even more that Rafe thought the could attack with that.

"I guess..." Sam took one last drag and turned to Rafe. "It's a pretty good start"

He threw his cigar to the ground and crushed it with the sole of his shoe. He was not even fully convinced of his words, but his head did not allow him to see another alternative. Having seen himself between the devil and the deep blue sea, he saw no solution other than adapting to events. Rafe patted Sam's shoulder again with approval.

"It is, partner"

Samuel glimpsed out of the corner of his eye two silhouettes approaching them. He could see the heavy bearing of a corpulent guard, and behind him he saw the figure of a woman. Rafe gave two brief touches on the passenger's glass, and a stout man emerging from the car surprised Sam. With a terse "good evening" he grabbed the handles of Sam's suitcase and carried it to the trunk, without hardly allowing him to react. He soon took his place again in the pilot's seat, although Rafe stood expectantly.

"What does she have to do with Avery's treasure?", the woman and the guard were still far enough away, but Sam could not help whispering.

Rafe chuckled, not taking his eyes off the jail entrance.

"Don't worry about that, she has no interest in it. It's just part of, let's say, the tactical team"  
Sam looked back at Rafe, eyebrows raised. Then, the thudding noise of the closing gate made Sam take off Rafe's eyes, placing them now on the woman, who had already left the guard behind.

"Consider her a support for your work" Rafe concluded. "She's more useful than it seems"

Sam frowned at his last words. Rafe used to use people to his advantage, so it did not surprise him he talked about that woman as a tool. After all, kindness aside, Rafe was doing the same to him, if he could trust she was just another victim of whatever the businessman was plotting. In a way, she had been the one who had found him, and she would have some benefit if not interested in Avery's treasure.

Although she was a woman of medium height, her upright position and well-toned muscles gave her an intimidating air, enhanced by the tattoos running through her arms. Her face showed a rigid expression, which began to soften as her steps brought her closer to the car. Realizing that Sam was keeping an eye on her, she ignored Rafe and addressed him in the first place, raising her hand between them.

"Aya" Sam grabbed the woman's hand, which returned a firm squeeze. "A pleasure"

Sam caught a faint smile on her lips, which he also gave. Certainly, she was more pleasant than Rafe Adler's company.

"Samuel" he replied. Moments later, he corrected himself: "Sam"

Both separated their hands without looking away. Aya narrowed her eyes, analyzing Samuel up and down. She began directing her eyes to a small tattoo on his neck, four birds taking off, from which she descended to the strong torso she could intuit under the white tank top under the open shirt of his uniform. When she wanted to notice, she was biting her lower lip. Rafe, who had been watching both of them with his hands in his pockets and raised eyebrows, caught her attention.

"Do you think he has already found out?"

The woman briefly looked at Rafe, before resting her eyes on the profile of the prison. She could imagine the unleashed fury of Fausto inside it, which she hoped would be contained enough to avoid the consequences she would think possible if her ex-husband really knew more about her than he should in his confinement.

"I won't stay to find out if we don't want the warden to regret having left you free" she said, referring to Sam, who remained with a confused gesture. "What if we get the hell out of here?"

"I agree" Rafe replied with a malicious laugh.

Before entering the co-driver seat, he pointed Sam to do the same with the place behind him. Sam stopped Rafe before they both got into the car.

"I think, after all..." he sighed, not quite sure what was still happening. "Thanks, Rafe"

Rafe nodded, looking over his shoulder at Sam with a half smile.

The driver did not take long to start the car, then Sam saw that Panamanian hell blur from the window. He could not guess how real that situation was; it was too much like many dreams he had had, though in all of them it was Nathan who was looking for him. The more his head tried to understand what he must feel about the situation, the more he noticed a haze hovering over his brain. He was not sure what to think about Rafe if he was forced to do something for the businessman after being got out of there. Actually, it was the other way around: as the guilty one, Rafe had to get him out of that place anyway, so he supposed he would have fulfilled... Except for the thirteen years he had lost and which would never be recovered. He wondered if Avery's treasure would be enough reward. Maybe if it was for him and his brother, it could make it up for all those years, but he did not feel Rafe could deserve such a prize when the consequences of his actions had not even been paid by him. Similarly, he could not conclude what the appearance of Aya implied in a treasure that, apparently, she had assured Rafe not to want.

Sam turned his eyes away from the view offered by the coast of Panama, directing them to his left, where Aya also looked out over the landscape. He did not know what implied Rafe that had assigned him a partner, and if it was a way of keeping an eye on him. He remembered the classic plot of spy movies, where a femme fatale made the naive hero fall into her trap. Rafe had always been twisted, so he was not too surprised by that theory. In any case, nothing in that situation allowed Sam to see freeway to trust either of them. Aya did not have the profile of a femme fatale, but she did not look like the kind of woman who would be fooled by Rafe Adler — it seemed obvious she should have some personal interest important enough to work for him, but that did not help to clarify if Aya was trustworthy.

Sam found himself scrutinizing her figure. Her dark hair fell in a long braid over her right shoulder, from which the black lines of a floral tattoo were born, extending until reaching her elbow. He looked down until her hand, which rested on her lap, while the other arm was on the window sill. She kept her legs crossed, accentuating her strong thighs, allowing himself to imagine some turgid buttocks. She was not a particularly exuberant woman, but she radiated an attractive energy that complemented the fierceness of her features. Maybe it was because of her slender athletic build, her appealing olive skin, or maybe, in short, because he had not felt a woman's touch for a few months. His last and risky conquest had been one of the nurses of the prison, Gabriela, for whom he invented any kind of illness that would allow him to visit her. He smiled to himself, still not looking away from Aya's legs, remembering the softness of Gabriela's thighs in his hands.

Aya then turned her head towards Sam, who had lost his gaze at a point between her legs trying to contain a smile. He did not take long to react, raising his amber eyes to Aya's amused gesture. The woman leaned forward, gently touching the driver's shoulder.  
"Roger, would you mind turning up the air-conditioning back here?"

Sam allowed himself a brief glimpse of Aya's back, noting the sinuous shape marked by a thin waist that led to wide hips. He swallowed. 'You're a pervert, Samuel Drake' he thought to himself, shaking his head.

"Sure, right now" replied Roger.

"Thanks, sweetheart"

Sam caught a faint smile on Roger's lips. Aya knew how and what to make people around her feel, and he could not help but wonder if she would want to provoke something in him on purpose. Aya leaned back again on the backrest, taking one last look at Sam before returning to her particular scrutiny of the horizon through the window. Sam threw back his head, breathing deeply. I had not been out of jail for fifteen minutes and he kept thinking about a situation that he was not going to solve while sitting in a car. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft rattle of Roger's driving, letting himself be enveloped by the comfort of the leather upholstery.

Definitely, it was much more comfortable than the cot in his cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation between Aya and Fausto is entirely in Spanish, but it’s very long so I kept it written in English.


	6. The Knight of Wands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a head full of spiders  
> And a heart that isn't here  
> In a room full of liars  
> All my demons reappear
> 
> — ''The Mystic'', Adam Jensen.

Sam closed the door behind him with a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes with both hands. The bathroom was not far from the luxury of the rest of Rafe's business jet, having to blink several times when he found that what looked like a comfortable leather seat actually covered the toilet bowl.

"So this is what the 21st century has brought ..." he murmured, still with raised eyebrows in his astonishment.

He turned towards the sink, letting the cold water run down his hands and wetting his face. He was still overwhelmed by such an escalation of events, and nothing helped him to believe he was not in a dream. Drying himself off with one of the elegantly rolled towels beside the faucet, he fixed his gaze on his reflection. He wore a simple black T-shirt and some new jeans he had bought in a clothing store at the airport, along with a wool-lined denim jacket, saved in his suitcase, which he deduced useful for the Scottish weather. Before boarding, Rafe had given him some kind of first salary with which he could get rid of the uniform once and for all. Sam was completely disconcerted about his kindness, but he could not deny he felt even complexed about those clothes which had accompanied him for the past thirteen years. He had not even been able to avoid a paranoid thought walking through the terminal, as if everyone knew where he had come from, but Rafe seemed to have read his mind when he had not uttered a word about it. In fact, he did not remember talking much more along the way.

Rafe had insisted on traveling to Edinburgh as soon as possible, so they were flying over the night sky in his private jet. Sam did not care too much about how many hours of travel were left, having checked the comforting seats that would make him forget the rough bed where he had spent the night before. In any case, he did not know what he could reply to Rafe. He had taken him out of jail and given him a good-paying job in his greatest ambition ever, although he could not involve Nathan while Rafe was watching him. In short, Sam had left prison to get into a golden cage.

Looking at himself in the mirror, those thirteen years were hammering in his head. He supposed the weight of his past would disappear when he got rid of his uniform, but what really spoke of his story were the wrinkles on his face and the scars that were timidly seen in his bare arms. He felt those three shots burn under the shirt, piercing him from the back to the belly, like an anxious reminder of lost time. He looked away from the mirror, pursing his lips and supporting the weight of his body on his hands in the sink.

'No, goddammit, no. No more whining' he told to himself. 'No more wasting time'

He exhaled the air from his lungs through his nose, concluding nothing useful in the tangle of his thoughts. In any case, Sam was sure his situation would not remain as Rafe had decided. He took one last look at his reflection, the muscles in his arms accentuated by the posture, forcing a lopsided smile.

"Com'on, you don't look that bad" he muttered, the same words as every time he had to treat his usual negative thoughts in front of the mirror.

Returning to the cabin, Aya and Rafe still were sitting on the other side of the plane: she was in front of the empty sit he left, and Rafe to her right, accommodated in a two-seat sofa. Apart from these, he counted up six seats made to be reclined completely, one of which would be his bed that night.

Rafe turned to him when his footsteps approached him.

"Good time for a drink?"

Rafe had already raised his hand to the only flight attendant on the plane before Sam answered. Sitting in front of Aya, he could see how she rolled her eyes at Rafe's behavior, which made him bite his lips to keep him from laughing. Sam was not going to deny the luxury of a private jet was more than satisfactory for him, but Aya's reaction was very similar to the feelings Rafe's attitude of superiority used to generate in ordinary mortals. He still did not have a single idea of what her intentions were in the business, but Sam had sensed a few details of disdain between Rafe and Aya, despite appearances.

They had both been looking at each other until the flight attendant left and Rafe was talking again.

"Well, first things first." Rafe rubbed his hands and extracted from a briefcase at his side a small bulky folder which he threw on the table between Aya and Sam. "We've had to hurry because of, let's say, some setbacks, but nobody said resuscitating someone was easy, right?"

Aya, who once again lost her gaze through the window, had let out a sarcastic laugh that did not go unnoticed. Sam flipped the content of the folder on the table and found a passport, a driver's license, a credit card and many other papers that testified his return to life. Then, from the inside, a bunch of keys also fell, but before he could ask, Rafe explained:

"Your new apartment is managed by the company." Rafe fixed his gray eyes on Sam, smiling broadly. "As long as you work with me, of course".

Then, the flight attendant brought three glasses of a dark liquid of strong and dry fragrance. Sam noticed her then, a young woman with blond hair, blue eyes, and a white smile. 'Rafe really knows who to surround himself with'. With that thought in his head, he returned his gaze to Aya, who was taking the first sip. She maintained a rigid posture, seemingly uncomfortable. Sam resumed his conversation with Rafe, and Aya took advantage of her discreet silence to continue his inquiries about Sam. Apart from enjoying the view, she lost no opportunity to analyze him in his attitude towards the businessman. She could not judge his qualms — after all, Rafe had been the man who had stolen him so many years of life, and Sam did not seem to be someone who would be contented with any gifts Rafe could give to him. Aya smiled to herself: that will come in handy to her.

"When we land, Aya will go with you in a cab so you don't get lost" Rafe continued.

Aya awoke from her reverie and raised her glass, nodding sarcastically.

"Twenty-four-hour babysitting service is also run by the company" she answered then.

Sam tried to hide a mischievous smile, thinking of all the possibilities of that statement.

"Don't be so dramatic" Rafe replied, jadedly. "Not everything was going to be bibliographical research"

"Yay, how exciting..."

Aware that until that moment Aya's work had moved away from the action to which she was accustomed, Rafe smile broadly at her sarcasm. Sam let his gaze travel from one to the other, still confused by the dynamic between them.

"You really were talking about.. some kind of nanny when you mentioned ‘tactical team’?" Sam said, settling into the conversation. He did not quite understand what role exactly Aya was playing, who then raised her eyebrows with an amused gesture.

"Nothing further from reality, she’s just a whiner" Rafe replied, ignoring her comment and shaking his head. "But she’s a quite capable treasure hunter, too"

Aya gave a half smile full of irony. It seemed a real milestone to hear Rafe speak well of someone who was not himself, although this time it was just a way of convincing Sam.

"I don't think ‘treasure hunter’ is my term" Aya replied, still addressing Rafe with a mocking tone in her voice.

Sam frowned.

"I bet there will be something worth mentioning" he interjected, making Aya fix her green eyes on him. The hardness of her gaze, framed by a scar on her left eyebrow, made him shiver, taking another sip of his drink as if that would calm him down.

"A pirate treasure" before Aya's silence, Rafe had answered. "Blackbeard's, to be specific"

Sam froze in his position, leaning over the table and resting on his elbows. His eyes and mouth widened in amazement, though he could barely articulate a babble that Aya interrupted.

"I didn't find it alone, actually" she shifted in the seat, visibly uncomfortable. In her mind, images of William Myers' inert body were giving her a slight headache. "My part doesn’t normally involve being surrounded by books"

Rafe sighed, taking the last sip of his drink and standing up.

"There’s no need to be… humble, Aya " he sentenced.

Aya crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. Sam felt each response he received returned twice as many questions, but it was not Rafe who would be willing to answer them.

"Stop talking about work for now, there will be time for it" Rafe continued, while the flight attendant approached to carry off his glass. "Besides, Sam, you should take a couple of days to get used to modern life. Which reminds me of..."

Rafe turned on his heels and rummaging in the same briefcase from which he took out his new identification documents, found a small white box he handed to Sam.

"You'll need a cellphone"

When he opened it, Sam fund a metallic black rectangle, plated with a crystal on one of its sides. Wondering where the buttons were, he heard Aya's laugh.

"A smartphone?" she interjected, trying to contain herself. "Really?"

"A what?"

"Well, that's what twenty-four-hour babysitting service is made for" Rafe gave a meaningful smile to Sam. "Get some rest while you can"

Rafe walked down the aisle of the plane towards the bathroom, but turned to the right of it and opened a door which neither of them identified before. The flight attendant soon followed his footsteps, which caused Sam to watch her way with a frown.

"You think he…?"

When he looked back at Aya, who was turning her eyes back to the window, he noticed that her posture had relaxed sensibly, as well as the expression on her face.

"I hope not" she replied, in an absolutely stunned voice. It was not the first time on that night Aya was distracted by the views from the outside, which at that moment became somewhat annoying to Sam. He was beginning to fear he would end up missing some of his jail mates, at least more talkative than his alleged savior.

"May I ask what has stolen your interest out there?" Sam questioned, curious.

Aya looked once more at Sam, who could finally see a nicer gesture in her eyes.

"Sorry, it's just..." she cleared her throat, stirring in her seat. "There will be an eclipse tonight"

Sam raised his eyebrows, slightly raising the corners of his lips.

"What?" she replied, trying not to blush.

"Nothing, really" Sam raised both hands, as declaring himself innocent. "Everyone has a vice"

Aya's face relaxed again in a half smile, although her narrowed eyes seemed to sharpen.

"Like you and your pirates"

Sam returned a wider smile. He thought he had found a good opportunity to make his partner talk.

"You know? This thing can wait" he continued, keeping the smartphone in its box "Now you mention it, I'm quite interested in Blackbeard"

Aya took a deep breath.

"Slow down, cowboy. I need way more alcohol to tell you that story" she pointed to her glass with a bitter smile. "And Rafe has monopolized our air hostess, so..."

Sam nodded slowly, pursing his lips.

"I see, I've lost the ability of talking to ladies"

Aya twisted her hand around the dark braid that fell over her chest, tilting her head to the side without looking away from him.

"You’re not that bad. I like you go straight to what you want". Then she shrugged with pretended innocence. "Maybe ‘cause I don't consider myself a lady"

He frowned. It was kind of a shameless flirting when they had known each other only a few hours ago — either Aya was playing with him for her purpose, or she was really interested. A small twinge in his stomach warned him that it had taken effect on him but, in any case, he was not going to be caught by surprise.

"And you don't even consider yourself a treasure hunter" Sam replied, remembering her previous comment.

"Treasures are not what I'm most interested in hunting" Aya maintained an expression that seemed malicious to Sam. "I'm not an expert in History either, even I'd like to... I guess that's what you're for"

Sam chuckled. He had to admit he liked to bring out his academic knowledge to impress someone, and that open possibility for Aya seemed tempting.

"Even so, you’ve done pretty well" he replied.

"I'm a quick learner" she answered. For Sam, that just meant Aya was too cautious talking about herself. "And, sometimes, other resources are needed apart from books. That's why I'm here"

"Other resources, sure..." said Sam. He was beginning to feel more nervous than he intended before the aura of uncertainty Aya kept putting between them. "Like, finding me in that prison when everyone thought I was dead"

Aya's face showed an almost imperceptibly worried gesture, almost fearful. Then, she looked up over her shoulder and leaned across the table getting closer to Sam, whispering:

"This is not a conversation we should have here"

Sam cocked his head, confused.

"What?"

"You just… Give me the benefit of the doubt" Aya replied, laying on the backrest again. "Let's say we have a talking to do"

He wanted to think Aya had caught his own reluctances, which might mean she was willing to offer answers, but it seemed so easy that it was inevitable for Sam to think about a trap. In any case, he supposed he only has to wait for both of them to be completely alone, out of any possibility of being heard, to see what really happened in that strange association.

Sam briefly looked back down the aisle before speaking again.

"So Rafe is always like this with all his female employees?"

Aya almost choked on the sip she was taking. She put the glass down on the table and, restored to her composure, hurriedly replied:

"I hope you're not referring to me"

Sam opened his eyes wide, blinking several times. He had not put it that way, but he was really curious to know if the effect that Rafe seemed to cause in those who were under his power worked with Aya.

"No, no and no. Holy shit, what were you thinking?"

"Hey, it's not that crazy" he defended, fearing he'd made a fool of himself. "Sometimes he... Stares at you"

Aya came closer to him again, resting her arms on the table. Then, Sam noticed the pleasant view her tank top offered in that position.

"Oh, like you do?" Aya replied, with an amused smile that gave him confidence.

He looked away, chuckling before returning his eyes to her green ones.

"And like you do to me"

Aya rested her jaw on her closed hand, biting her lip and letting her eyes wander along the path she had traced outside the Panamanian prison: the tattoo on her neck, the line that marked his pectorals, his strong arms resting on the table, one hand playing with his glass.

"True" Aya dropped her arm again. "But first, for making it clear: guys like Rafe… are not my thing"

"And what's your thing?"

Sam kept his eyes locked on her green ones with a grin on his lips, which brought a tingling between her legs. Aya turned her gaze briefly to them, with a resigned sigh.

"I don't mix business and pleasure, Sam". 'To my great regret', she concluded in her head. "Last time I did was a disaster"

Aya noticed a slight pout of annoyance escaping from Sam's mouth. He had begun to contemplate the possibility of letting himself fall into temptation, even aware of the mystery that Aya's intentions implied.

"What happened?" He asked, before giving a sip to his glass.

"Well... We got married"

That time it was Sam who had to put aside his drink to avoid choking.

"Shit" he rasped before continuing. "I mean... I guess it depends on how you see it..."

Aya let out a laugh.

"The disaster came later, obviously" she sighed then, averting her gaze.

Sam frowned, not understanding a thing, and looked at her hands: there was no marriage alliance in her fingers. He felt there were some sensitive issues, but if she was being sincere, it could allow him to dig deeper into her true intentions.

"I guess Fausto Dávalos sounds familiar to you"

"You're shittin' me" Aya shook her head at his words. Sam offered an expression that mixed incredulity and astonishment, wondering if Aya could be teasing him. "You’ve got balls to marry a drug lord"

Aya returned to fix her eyes on him, her scarred eyebrow arched, causing in Sam again that feeling of discomfort.

"The truth is I can’t tell who was the dumbest" she said then, in an enigmatic sentence that Sam received with a frown. "But we are more than our crimes, don’t you think?"

If Sam had to judge Fausto for his crimes, he could not forget those he had committed before entering the Panamanian prison — after all, and despite himself, he was never just a thief. He had long since given up trying to conclude any internal debate about it, and he would not do so with a drug dealer whose acts he knew nothing more than some rumors in the prison yard.

"In a dream world, I guess so" he replied then with evident sarcasm, provoking a small laugh in Aya. Sam lowered his eyes again, this time to Aya's left forearm, where a strange tattoo glinted with a labyrinthine geometric pattern, surrounding it as if it were a bracelet. "Now I come to think of it... That explains why I thought I've seen that tattoo before"

He had paid attention to it earlier, but he had not been able to relate it. Unlike hers, Fausto's was covered with deep cuts, as if he had tried to get rid of it. In a reflex act, Aya put her right hand on top of it.

"It has nothing to do with our relationship" she murmured. Her fingers moved around it, caressing it, evoking some memory Sam was missing. "It’s quite interesting… How many possibilities were there in the world for both of you being in the same prison?"

Sam did not know if she was talking to him or simply thinking out loud, but that question made his stomach stir: everything seemed reduced to a so delicate and capricious possibility that it reminded him the few alternatives he had had to get out of that hell.

"I didn't know him too much, but this last week was... Very nice to me" Sam huffed before continuing. "And if you had to hurry up..."

"He put a price on your head in exchange for getting him out of there" Aya did not want to say it, but it was not anything Sam could not guess. That was part of Fausto's game: let known his prey who the hunter was.

Sam collapsed on his seat, dropping his hands in his lap. His face was a genuine portrait of confusion.

"Keep calm, that bastard is still locked up in his cell" Aya pointed out. "I took care of him while you went out"

The knot in his stomach seemed to tighten more. Sam swallowed as if that could dissolve him.

"You could have hell to pay because of that" he said at last. Aya shrugged, pretending to show security.

"Believe me, it has been a royal pain to get you out so I doubt Fausto will get away with it" she replied. "They hate him even more than they hated you"

Sam scratched the back of his neck, feeling his mind fuming. He could not complain, he was beginning to get some answers, but he had forgotten not all of them would be nice. His mouth had dried, so he took a sip of his drink before looking at her meditative face.

"I guess you're not going to tell me why you did it" he resumed. Sam doubted that his new partner wanted to make her ex-husband angry just for fun, plus having to stand Rafe to do it.

He imagined Aya would well know that it was because of Henry Avery's treasure he ended locked up in the Panamanian jail, but he did not know to what extent Rafe would have been sincere regarding Vargas's murder — or if she even care who was the good and the bad guy. His brain then divided, wondering if what he trusted to her would be told to the businessman, so Aya would be just playing a role. He doubted Rafe would be glad believing Sam could be up to something against him.

"So..." Sam continued. He gave a slight sigh, searching for appropriate words. "I guess I should... I mean, you got me out of there, and holy shit. I think I still can't believe it. Anyway...” he cleared his throat. It had seemed easier with Rafe. "I don’t know how to thank you"

"You don’t have to. We all have interests in this business, right?"

"Yeah, it’s not that I think you’re a good Samaritan" he replied, with a certain sarcastic tone in his voice. "No offense"

Aya let out an enigmatic smile, hiding any trace of dismay.

"None taken" they held each other's gaze for a few seconds, until Aya deflected hers into her glass, ringing her fingers against it in a kind of nervous twitch. "Any idea of what to do with your freedom?"

"The big question" Sam tilted his head against the backrest, his lips curling in a hesitant gesture. "You spend so many nights on that shit hole thinking what you'll do when you're free and now..."

Sam snorted, interrupting his ramblings. He had spent all that time with all his senses alert, anxiously searching for a clue on which to lay a defense against the Rafe’s manipulations and, perhaps, Aya’s, so he had not even taken time to enjoy that strange freedom.

"Many possibilities, huh?" she interjected.

'But not the ones I would like' thought Sam. The first wish that came to his mind was to track his brother down. They had a deeply close relationship, and they even built their lives around a shared dream, founded on their mother's legacy. What he weighed most of those thirteen years was to have lost so much world to discover together, but he would love hearing from his little brother all he could have achieved. He had always been very capable, even more than himself. In any case, he did not feel that he could trust Aya anything about Nathan.

"Any suggestions?" Sam finally answered, disguising his thoughts by shrugging.

Aya licked her lips, frowned thoughtfully before answering something that could re-animate their chat.

"Okay... But don’t judge me, please. I don’t do that very often, but I don’t know… I guess somehow my body asked me to" Sam’s face lit up in a gesture of interest. She sighed, chuckling nervously. "When I got out the last time, the first thing I did was taking a hot bath with a bottle of wine and... " Sam overcame part of the distance that separated him from Aya following her whispers, expectant "...the best weed of all California".

He could not help but give a laugh that soon spread to Aya. The dirtiest part of his mind had predicted a different resolution, but neither was he disappointed.

"Okay, I honestly didn't expect that," Sam said, still laughing. "It's a good plan, yeah. But I had come up with something simpler, maybe it looks boring to you"

"Everyone has a vice" Aya smiled a half smile, encouraging Sam to continue.

"Taking a bath is undeniable" he began to enumerate. "And a great feast, you know — I miss real food. Then sleep in a real bed too, and maybe..."

'Maybe find a nice warm body to sleep next to me', that dirtiest part of his mind, still bustling, completed his desires to himself. Even without saying it out loud, his grin and his sparkly eyes were enough for Aya to get an idea of what he could relate to.

"You should now there's something I can lend you a hand" she suggested then.

Sam arched both eyebrows, without failing a tipsy smile from his mouth. Maybe it was because of alcohol, but he thought he sensed a very seductive double meaning between Aya's words.

"What happened to not mixing business and pleasure?" he inquired.

Aya bit her lower lip, holding back a smile.

"That’s not what I mean" she sighed, fixing her eyes on Sam's amber ones. In a hiding corner of her brain, Aya wondered if she could ignore her absurd moral standards and help him in that matter as well. "But it’s just..."

"Not a conversation we should have here, right?" he completed.

"Yep, you’ve got it"

"That’s a lot of pending tasks" Sam whispered, at a volume not low enough for Aya would not hear it. He bit her tongue, but Aya enjoyed it even more than he did.

"First business, then pleasure" she said. "After all, once we finish with Avery we’ll stop working together"

Sam shook his head, ignoring if he had understood correctly. Certainly, their professional relationship was not going to last forever, and that thought made him notice some pressure in his pants. On her part, Aya felt that her self-imposed rule was the most absurd thing she had decided in years.

"Com'on, let me see me that thing" Aya abruptly changed the subject, pointing to the box in which the smartphone lay.

He was smiling broadly, checked the effect he had on Aya, and evidenced what she provoked in him. In the list of things he had missed, he had just remembered flirting with a stranger. Not too recommendable, perhaps, when it comes to that situation in particular, but he wanted to enjoy the situation when he still could not know or do more about it. After all, Sam felt a bit out of place. Even being an absurd detail like a smartphone, he was again in a field he did not control at all. So many things escaping from his knowledge began to give him a headache and an intense desire for nicotine.

Under Aya's urgent gaze, he pulled the new phone out of his box again, spinning it several times between his hands. He heard a laugh from her mouth, which made him look up, slightly blushing.

"I've no idea of how this works" he excused himself.

"You're a digital caveman" Aya answered. Sam raised his eyebrows, and she quickly tinted. "It's a tactile cellphone, but also sort of a pocket computer"

Sam kept an impassive face, and Aya extended a hand on which he placed that electronic brick. She pressed a button on one of its sides, receiving the bright white light from the screen.

"I'm sure you feel like Marty McFly" Aya said, without getting rid of a funny gesture.

"It's so sweet of you to use references I can understand".

Aya winked at him with complicity. In their deepest thoughts, both concluded the wait could be worthwhile.


	7. The Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been counted out, left for dead  
> Wanted with a bounty on my head  
> But somehow, someway, I'm-a keep movin' along
> 
> — ''Bury Me Face Down'', grandson

He opened his eyes heavily, inhaling slowly as much air as he could in his lungs. From his position, with his head resting on the wall, Sam looked at the tub in which his lanky body settled under the cold water. His right hand lay between his legs, and with some effort, he could remember how he had fallen asleep after a moment of genuine intimacy, due to the muffled cigar he held in his left hand hanging out of the tub. 'No', his mind corrected. 'That wasn't just tobacco'.

It had been only ten hours since they arrived in Edinburgh. Aya had done her part and accompanied Sam in the taxi to his apartment, knowing his address. Both had said goodbye in the vehicle, and Sam approached the threshold of his new home being aware for the first time of the only moment of real solitude after so many years. Then, looking for the keys in his jacket pocket, he found a white plastic tube, smaller than his hand, on which was affixed a label. It seemed to have something written, 'Ambrosia', barely legible because of some capital letters that were written over: 'happy birthday, caveman'. Sam did not know what frightened him the most - if the remainder of the forty-three years old he was then or that Aya had taken enough information from the documents Rafe had obtained for him. He thanked that gift for the occasion when he could discover it by opening the small lid at the end of the tube and tilting it over his hand.

He groped his lighter over the tiled floor next to the tub, a silver Zippo adorned with a star in its center and the number seventy-six carved on the lid. His hand hit a bottle of beer, reminding him he had also made a few purchases. After getting rid of his suitcase, he decided to avoid the solitude of the apartment while the sun shone over Edinburgh, taking advantage of a climate that did not seem to be very common. He had strolled through the historic streets of the city center trying to get to that life as if he had never set foot in a prison. He missed the intimacy, but he felt like on his first day of freedom, and as a whimsical coincidence, his birthday, he could indulge a pair of whims with which he would finish forgetting the constant thoughts crowding his head since he had abandoned Panama.

He brought the flame of his lighter to the last puffs that Aya's gift offered. He had never been a regular marijuana smoker, but his partner had guessed right: clearly, he should have added that task to his list before. He took a deep breath at the dense floral taste of the smoke, returning tingles to his skin he could not blame on the cold humidity covering his legs. Then, a few drowned knocks in the distance took him out of his reverie.

It had been two hours since Sam returned from his walk through 'the free world', and with some energy dragged by jet lag, he had decided to finally finish the inquiries about Aya and asked to see her that night for dinner. Maybe it might have sounded strange to her, or maybe she would have provoked that situation with her present. Be that as it may, Sam had not hesitated to use an easy way out:

"I don't wanna spend my birthday locked up in here, and apart from Rafe, you're the only person I know in this city to go out for a drink" he had said. It was not entirely a lie, but Sam did not want simply 'to go out for a drink'. He wanted to be able to control the situation, and he was not going to let Aya make it difficult for him; whatever they had to talk about Rafe was going to be resolved that night.

Louder knocks made Sam startle. He distinguished them coming from the main door of the apartment.

'Shit, how much time has passed?' he murmured to himself.

His back confirmed it when he got rid of the posture he had held for a nap. He threw the joint in the ashtray he had left on the floor, and clumsily came out of the bathtub. The effects of cannabis seemed to fade away from his body, although he felt quite torpid. He was beginning to regret having let himself be carried away by impatience to met Aya.

More knocking. Sam snorted as he quickly ran the towel over his body, already feeling cold.

"Just a moment!" he shouted, hoping to be heard despite the distance.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, and holding it with his hand, he ran to the front door. When he opened it, he tried to hide his body behind it.

"Jesus, Sam, I thought something happened to you" Aya offered a visibly tense gesture only relaxed after a sigh. "A neighbor of yours opened the doorway for me. You didn't hear the intercom?"

Sam scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat. His mouth was mushy and his head felt heavy on his shoulders.

"Sorry, it's just... I lost track of time".

Aya arched an eyebrow. They had both agreed she would pick him up at his apartment for dinner, but she did not expect Sam to be the kind of person who used to be late. Then, Aya scrutinized the strange position with which Sam was hiding behind the door, but as soon as he changed the weight from one leg to another with some uneasiness, she could see his bare arm and the drops of water sliding over it.

"Wow, okay... Not very subtle" Aya said then, with a wicked smile. "Did you say something like 'without setting t a precedent'?"

With calculated wit, in their phone conversation, Sam had pointed out with those same words his insistence was not due to his primary intentions, although deep down it was partly to blame. He supposed his unconscious still expected Aya to reorder her priorities, and perhaps that was why it was more uncomfortable to find himself before her only covered by a towel with the connotations it might imply. In spite of everything, Aya offered a funny expression.

"It's not on purpose, I fell asleep in the bathtub" he stopped forcing his posture, part of his shoulder and his pectoral being visible to Aya then. "Just wait a moment, won't take more than five minutes".

"Can I come in?"

Sam swallowed. He could have made Aya wait a little longer before opening to put on some clothes, although he did not think it was appropriate to make her wait too long. In fact, he could swear she would have needed a few minutes more to throw the door down.

"Uh... Yeah, sure" while Aya went into the apartment, Sam spoke then in a whisper not inaudible enough: "But without setting a precedent."

He closed the door behind her in a sigh that mixed resignation and restlessness. Sam tried to make an improvised plan to sneak into his bedroom in the shortest time possible, although an obscene impulse in his thoughts urged him to take advantage of the situation. But, on the other hand, he did not stop feeling the weight of the unknowns over him — it did not suit him too much to detract from the matter by walking half-naked before her, especially when Aya had made her position clear on whatever might happen between them.

As he turned on his heels, Aya finished her quick visual review of his new home to stop at the generous view Sam offered. He was running a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, barely noticing her broad smile.

"Of course, now I understand that sweet face of yours" she said then. "Did you enjoy my gift?"

Sam chuckled as he walked away to a hallway to the left, avoiding her gaze.

"We'll talk about it" his voice rose as he walked away. "Five minutes".

Sam disappeared when crossing a door behind which Aya guessed the bedroom was. She had followed with her eyes his strong back, distinguishing the mark of the three shooting scars also repeated on his abdomen. She also thought she saw two tattoos besides the one she already knew, one on his chest and one on his arm, but she could barely identify it. A short show, but it was worthy enough to her.

Aya looked back to the rest of the apartment in a more thorough analysis, absent the host. In addition to the corridor on the left, which communicated with two rooms and a bathroom, the entrance to the house was opened in a spacious living room barely furnished, at the back of which could be seen a window communicating with a terrace. She supposed the sliding door on her right led to the kitchen since the structure of the building was very similar to where she lived.

Apart from the simple furniture consisting of a three-seater sofa, an armchair, a coffee table, two shelves on each side of the sideboard on which a television lay and a dining area, in a few hours Sam had left a certain personal touch. As she sat on the sofa, more comfortable than she would have predicted, Aya saw the small mess on the table in front of her, which she deduced Sam had not bothered to order in the large empty shelves.

She put her eyes first on four thick newly purchased books, escaping a laugh from her lips — only someone like Samuel Drake could think of historical-themed books to liven up a day like that. To the right of these, she saw he had tried to adapt to the 21st century by buying several of the best-known films and music albums of recent years. Aya reminded herself she must teach Sam the infinite possibilities of the Internet, but she could not help but find tenderness in those gestures. Then, her eyes fixed on what she thought it was a fifth book, lined in white leather, with an inscription on it: Cassandra M.

"You want a beer before leaving?"

Aya flinched and saw Sam scrutinizing her with a frown. He held an empty bottle and had left an ashtray on the sideboard in front of her.

"No, no ... Thank you" she stammered. She stood up, rubbing her hands against her thighs, feeling wet with sudden nervousness. "Sorry, I didn't want to snoop on your stuff..."

Then, Sam's gesture relaxed into a smile. Being fair, Aya had not put her hands on that journal.

"Nevermind".

On his way to the kitchen, taking the empty beer with him, Aya could see he had also renovated his wardrobe, remembering that at the airport he had barely bought just the clothes to wear on the trip. He had not discarded his denim jacket yet, but then he wore a gray sweater and black pants. Either Sam knew what suited him, or Aya would swear that any rag would fit him like a glove.

"So you've taken a tour through the city" she asked, raising the volume of her voice.

She heard the bottle impact against what she thought was a garbage can.

"Some jet-lag and a huge desire for freedom" Sam appeared again at her sight, offering a flushed smile. "I had a lot of pent-up energy but well, then I flake out".

Despite this, he had surprised himself by the speed with which he had managed to offer a presentable look to Aya, although their meeting that night had already conditioned his purchases. It seemed clear neither of them expected anything beyond an informal meeting, but he had not been able to avoid some anticipation in the image to be offered, just as some details in her testified, like her eyelashes made up and her lips reddened.

"Yeah, I see..." Aya held a mocking expression. "So, the best thing you can do now is to cross out the feast of your 'list of things to do as a free man' ".

Sam's stomach roared at that assertion, and for a moment he wondered how much he would stand without eating until they reached the restaurant. Then, Aya began to walk towards the door, but a signal of alarm in Sam's brain prevailed on the hunger.

"Hey, Aya ... " she turned to Sam, who took a deep breath before continuing talking. "First of all, I have to be clear: I don't know how much you've pried into me when recovering my identification documents, and that makes me uncomfortable".

Aya raised her eyebrows and blinked several times, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You don't need to be fussy" she replied, her tone slightly irritated. "I just got you those papers, and by chance... I wanted to do something nice for you".

If it was true Rafe's dirtiest works was at her charge, it alerted Sam even more.

"And I appreciate that" Sam inhaled deeply, releasing it in a sigh. "But it doesn't seem quite fair when I don't know anything about you".

"Do you wanna know when is my birthday or what?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, unarmed.

"Shit..." he scratched the back of his neck. It was more difficult than he had predicted. "I'm just saying you are playing with an advantage. And honestly, I have no reason to trust you".

Then, Aya rolled her eyes and put her jugs arms in a loud snort.

"I don't trust you either, but if we are partners we must start at one end" she continued. "You could knock the shit out of me with more than a simple birthday date — you know I've been married, who was my husband and that I've been in jail".

He shrugged.

"Just by chance".

"No, don't be wrong" she beat the meters separating her from Sam, hardening her gaze. "I know about you by chance, you know about me because I've decided to tell you".

He could not help a self-satisfied half smile on his face. Aya was right that, being partners, they should start by giving in to the trust, but that was a basic argument when it was not yet explained what real intentions she had. In fact, so much interest on her part in winning the complicity of Sam did not stop being suspicious.

"Exactly: you've decided to tell me, but I decided nothing".

Aya made a slight growl. Sam had been right, and he was showing a mocking gesture with a gallantry that slapped her in her own pride.

"All right, you paranoid bastard. I guess I can't blame you". she concluded, eliciting a broad smile from Sam she could not predict. "We're going to have dinner, and if you want I'll tell you what is my favorite color or if I prefer winter to summer, and then we'll talk about what we've really come to talk about so you understand my extraordinary kindness".

The woman resumed her way to the door under the amused look of Sam, who followed her after putting his belongings in his pockets. Before grabbing the knob, Aya turned on her heels, both of them at a minimum distance that, even so, did not intimidate her. She narrowed her eyes on Sam's, higher than she because of his height.

"But I warn you" she continued, descending the volume of her voice according to the few centimeters that separated them. "you better don't touch my balls with things I don't want to talk about, okay?"

Sam chuckled, offering a relaxed appearance that did not correspond with his mind trying to handle the ins and outs Aya's words hid.

"Fair enough"

_______________________________

Despite the small misstep with which they had begun that night, it was easy for Aya to find a pleasant conversation with Sam. She could not deny she was afraid of receiving a jaded interrogation, but his own hidden past served as a trick so that, if he did not want to be questioned, Sam should not delve into Aya's. She had already wielded relationships previously where she had managed to evade certain questions but under the protection of not being sentimentally involved for more than a couple of nights and, of course, not working side by side with anyone every day. That situation with Sam involved the new juncture of having a real partner —not the independence when working with William Myers—, so it was not strange he might have an interest in knowing more about her. At the end of the day, beyond her reluctance to make herself known, it was a maneuver that benefited her: she needed Sam to trust her, and she also needed to trust him.

Aya had complied with what she insured, and after a dinner featuring thick hamburgers and a couple of beers, both were in a nearby pub where she said there was enough privacy to talk about their 'delicate talking to do'

Sam came back from the bar with two more beers in each hand, heading to the secluded table Aya had chosen.

"Gotta say you made the right choice with the feast" He placed the drinks on the table, sitting in front of Aya. "That burger definitely brought me back from the dead".

"Cheers for that" Aya gave a half smile and clink her glass with Sam's, taking a drink before continuing. "I've tried to do my best, but anything could resurrect you after what you've smoked. At least you trusted me in that".

"Yeah, and then you can help but complain..." he glanced briefly away, fiddling with the drops on the glass he circled vaguely with his fingers. "You've got good resources on hand not to do it often.

"And I don't, but you can imagine how stressed I've been this week" she replied with a tinkle. "But even so, I've shared it with you".

"A good trick, by the way. In my teens, girls did something similar for us to go after them, although it didn't use to be drugs". Sam confirmed his theory on how Aya looked away and contained a smile by biting her lip. "I must say I'm surprised with your abilities".

"That's really saying something, coming from a pickpocket" she said, continuing his teasing game.

Sam chuckled, then took a sip of his beer that gave him a few seconds to chew his answer.

"I'm curious, how does a private detective finish her career in jail? Does it have to do with that gift of yours?" he asked, in one of the not so subtle questions he had thrown that night. "Or because being the wife of a drug dealer?"

Aya raised an eyebrow, stabbing one of those looks that made Sam uncomfortable.

"No, nothing to do with drugs. Luckily, Fausto's sins didn't affect me... Or I should say I've never been caught committing them" she answered, with an enigmatic half smile. "I stopped being a private detective long before I went to jail and... I got married much later.".

Sam turned his eyes back to her, questioning her, causing a sigh of resignation in Aya

"I'm sorry to tell you it's going to cost more dinners for you to know the answer". Aya then drank from her beer, licking afterward with a frown, thoughtful. "Only were four years. The comparison is ridiculous, what can I say..."

He waved his hand, interrupting her words.

"Okay, okay. Let's drop the subject. I don't want your pity".

"I didn't mean to talk about pity" she held Sam's gaze for a few seconds. Nibbling on her lip, she hesitated before continuing, looking around to avoid being heard. "You know, that list of things to do is great but... The first thing I really did when I got out of jail was tracking down my family".

Sam blinked several times, not knowing what to say. Aya had not mentioned a member of her family, although neither had he. He could sense an intentionality tinge in her words, and along with the suspicion with which she was treating the situation, he felt urged to investigate more, but he did not know what he should answer without risk his secrets too much.

"I can't help you to get together with your brother right now" she continued. "But..."

"What?" suddenly, Sam felt his heart was about to come out of his chest. "What do you know about my brother?"

Aya saw how his eyes had darkened, menacing.

"Just of hearsay" she replied, appeasing with a certain tone of harshness the pretended fierceness with which Sam tried to intimidate her. "You've already talked about him with Rafe, right?".

He kept frowning.

"More or less".

Aya narrowed her eyes. Predictably Sam was hard-nosed, although not as much as she had expected. The previous conversation perhaps helped soften the trust he placed in her.

"More or less? 'He left me thirteen years ago, Rafe, what do you expect me to feel for him?' " Aya said, mockingly imitating Sam's voice. "He told me everything. Even seemed proud of you".

He could not help getting rid of his defiant gesture, then occupying his face the bewilderment. Rafe and Sam had shared a conversation at the Edinburgh airport in a brief absence from Aya, in which the businessman again made it clear running to Nathan was not a good idea. Sam had not hesitated to play with an ace up his sleeve, pretending that his intentions were not kind towards his brother.

"So?" he answered finally.

"You're lying" Aya kept a teasing smile. "You can fool Rafe because his pride is too heavy and any shit against Nathan Drake is music to his ears. But not me".

"I don't know what's your point"

"I know it all started as something yours and your brother's" she continued, softening the tone and approaching Sam, placing both elbows on the table. "I can't guess what motive you'll have behind this whole thing, but I suppose it doesn't feel very good to see how the rich boy with whom you contact out of desperation has taken Avery's treasure as something as his own as you considered it to be yours".

Sam tried to keep an impassive face, leaning rigidly against the back of his chair.

"If you're trying to interrogate me, you're doing quite bad".

"Don't you think if I wanted to get you information for Rafe I would've done on that plane, or in your apartment?" Aya snorted wryly and took a sip of her beer. "You should be careful, by the way. I soon found a microphone in my living room".

He remained silent for a moment. Imitating her movements, he took a drink of his beer, approaching to her then, placing both arms on the table.

"So what do you want?"

"I want to help you find Avery's treasure with your brother, not with Rafe" Aya concluded. He tilted his head to one side, frowning.

"Why?"

"I need your help, and it's the only way to prove to you I'm legit".

So many thoughts crossed Sam's head but none of them settled enough to allow him to do more than follow Aya's strange game. She continued speaking, before the impassive face of her partner:

"I think Avery made a Saint Dismas cross for each member of the crew among whom he would distribute the Gunsway loot. Avery would want the clues to be followed in order to keep their treasure safe, and that's why Rafe hasn't found anything in thirteen years: he needs one of those crosses". Aya stopped for a moment. Sam's apparently receptive attitude did not reassure her. "When we find it, you can go away tracking down your brother while I keep Rafe busy".

"Look like too much trouble to you in exchange for a little help" it was the only thing Sam could answer, almost immediately. He felt his brain was about to explode, so he was barely able to think what was coming out of his mouth.

"It's not that simple" she replied.

"And what is it, then?"

Aya sighed, looking away from his hazel eyes. That plan sounded better in her head.

"You don't trust me, but I'll show you can by helping you get the cross". Then Aya looked up again at Sam's inquisitive gaze. "I don't trust you either, so in return, you must wait until we solve about Avery to tell you what I need from you".

Both remained to inquire in the other's pupils for a time that felt eternal to Aya. Since the turn of the conversation, Sam had managed to keep the apathy on his face in a rigid posture that did not allow her to guess a few of his thoughts. Then, he took a deep breath and blinked several times, tensing his jaw.

"I don't know what the hell Rafe is pretending, but if this is a trick to rat me out..."

Aya snorted and threw herself on the back of her chair. She began to believe she had not raised her strategy in the best way.

"Rafe already asked me to keep you under control, and suggested several ideas to 'make things easier for me'. If I had accepted, I would've jumped to your crotch on that plane" she interrupted him. Sam raised his eyebrows — he had not been too wrong about Rafe's possible pretensions towards Aya. "But I prefer to earn your trust in a less manipulative way".

"I don't know what I would've preferred" Sam realized he had thought aloud, accompanied by a cocky grin that did not seem to correspond with the bad feeling actually gave him the situation. But it was not a lie that he had wondered how much it would be worth to let himself be manipulated by Aya.

She chuckled, still not losing her composure.

"You have your reasons for the treasure, and me too. I offer my help and in return, I only ask you to be in my favor when I need it".

"That's a very risky thing to not know what I'll have to face when you need it" Sam replied. "What if I don't take any shit of what you say?"

Aya gave a sarcastic grin.

"Logical. You'll be stupid if you didn't doubt me" she said, maintaining a biting tone. "I don't care about Avery's treasure, so honestly, I wouldn't care who earned it. But it doesn't benefit me at all if Rafe wins it. On the other hand, I need to prove you can trust me, so then I can trust you can help me".

To her surprise, Sam wielded a smile, even though he did not get rid of the suspicion in his gesture.

"What's the catch?"

"You would betray Rafe anyway, right? Or maybe I jumped the gun to judge you?" Aya took a few seconds to allow Sam to answer, but Sam did not even bother to nod or shake his head. "You'll just have to let me help you".

"The thing, Aya, is that you don't know me," Sam replied. Aya's extreme willingness to take such risks was extremely weird to him. "You know there's a good chance I'll be an asshole that tomorrow would decide not to help you".

"It's a risk I'm willing to take" she concluded. "And that's why I don't trust to talk about what I need from you until the time comes".

Sam then let out a faint laugh that seemed to relax his stiff attitude.

"You must be very desperate with your mission".

"Is that a yes?"

He released all the air from his lungs through his nose, staring at his beer as he fiddled with the glass again. Aya accompanied her nervousness with the sway of her foot against the floor. That was a strange alliance, no doubt, but what both of them needed from each other could only be achieved by risking. Besides, Sam could not deny that a huge curiosity was gnawing at his insides.

"Fine" Sam raised his palms, smiling broadly. "We're dicking that rich asshole over".

Neither of them guessed at what point they fully accepted the terms of their agreement, although they knew the necessary clues to do it was at the mercy of time. At least, they had decided to invest it in collaborating together, and they had nothing more to lose. Maybe sanity, if Sam continued to question Aya's actions. She had decided to count on Sam from the beginning to give him what he wanted most, to reunite with his brother and get hold of Avery's treasure, and he just had to wait and remain his companion until his curiosity could be satisfied. He could not only question what Aya would so desperately want to need him and his brother, but what might link them to. Anyway, Aya could have manipulated him in as many ways as Rafe seemed to have suggested, but she had chosen to be frank — if that was not a strategy in itself.

"You're in good hands, Sam." Aya kept her eyes fixed on him, this time keeping both an accomplice gesture. "I expect the same from you".

"You can be sure".

Then, both clinked their glasses again in a toast with which they hurried the last drops of their drink.

"This strange association deserves another round, don't you think?" he intervened again, still doubting if what happened was real or the product of a beer too full of alcohol.

"It has been such a pleasure, but..." she replied, a glimpse of doubt that made Sam frown. "I'm afraid I've already covered the alcohol quota for today".

That caught Sam off guard, who shook his head.

"Com'on, really? I was just starting to have a really good time" a disappointed nuance escaped his voice. Certainly, beyond the remaining reticence, he felt some relief about Aya, and he had discovered the roller coaster their conversations were pleased him more than he thought.

Aya looked towards the bar, where a few meters away a woman with long, shiny red hair laughed, tipsy because of alcohol, accompanied by her blonde friend. Sam had noticed her presence before, as soon as she had not hesitated to sink her deep blue eyes on him, analyzing his body with desire.

"What's left of the night is yours to enjoy" Aya gestured with her head towards the redhead, following Sam where she pointed with his gaze. Then, the stranger also turned her head and gave her a seductive smile. "Do I have to remind you something?"

Sam looked back at her without getting rid of the suggestive gesture caused by the woman at the bar and encouraged by Aya's words. He supposed it was valuable the moral that urged Aya not to use Sam, at least, in carnal terms, but it was almost impossible not to give her an affirmative answer.

"Smartass" Sam answered, instead. "I haven't done so badly in these thirteen years, you know?"

"Oh, don't tell me: Samuel Drake is a naughty boy who sneaks on some nurse's panties" Aya bit her lip, holding back a chuckle. "Good for you, she seems to go straight to what she wants. You may even have luck with the blonde friend..."

Sam noticed a bitter tone in her words. She stood up to dress her leather jacket, ready to leave.

"Are you jealous?"

Aya raised an eyebrow, and without looking away from Sam, she pulled her wallet out of her pocket and got something from it that she threw on the table, and which he caught quickly. Sam looked at his hand to see what it was, but Aya, still standing, leaned on the table resting one hand on the surface, and with the other raised his chin to stare at him a few inches of distance.

"I would be if I knew I couldn't fuck you tonight if I wanted" she whispered. Her fingers slowly caressed his jaw, until she let them drop in a sigh. "What a shame we're partners..."

Then, crossing just a few words of farewell, Aya left. Sam looked again at the square plastic wrap she had given him, chuckling. 'What real shame', he thought, completing her words. He quickly put it in his denim jacket pocket, and after drinking his last sip of beer, he got up determined to talk to the red-haired beauty.


	8. The Magician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will tell you lies  
> I'll crawl inside your mind  
> Grab hold of your eyes  
> I will make you mine  
> And I’m gonna take my time
> 
> — ''Call me Devil'', Friends in Tokyo

Her reflection in the mirror returned a broad and loud yawn she did not even bother to hide with her hand. She had arrived at the office so early she did not have to share the elevator with any worker of the Adler company, as usual, and all because of Samuel Drake.

Those last weeks they had worked side by side in that office in Edinburgh arranged by Rafe for their previous bibliographic research, the same in which he had deployed every source of useful information in his thirteen years of tireless search. The theory with which Aya based her new inquiries was that many Saint Dismas crosses were sent by Henry Avery to the members of his crew for distributing the treasure obtained from the Gunsway Heist. Inside, it had to contain a clue that would lead to gold. Both Rafe and Aya had agreed that Sam, like an Avery expert, had sufficient and well-proven data about the pirate, although Aya could not guess what his sources were. Be that as it may, Sam had extensive knowledge of some members of the Fancy crew, which was a good starting point to begin tracking down at least one of the Saint Dismas cross needed to continue with the gymkhana that the captain had planned.

However, the names Sam referred were as unknown as Joseph Burnes himself. The clue to the cross Burnes had laid in a letter written for his son, but of the rest of the anonymous sailors he only knew the notes he himself had taken in his inseparable notebook, different from the white diary Aya remembered from his apartment, and which she suspected to be part of his investigation before having set foot in Panama. In short, they had focused on finding some clues that linked so many unknown names to a trail to follow, without success until that day.

That morning, instead of the clock alarm, the tone of her phone had awakened Aya. Sam burst into her sleep, asking her to come to the office as soon as possible.

"But why do I have to go there an hour before as usual?" she had said, her voice harsh as she was just out of bed.

"Don't be so annoying, please? I've spent all night working on this", he answered. "If you made me wait when I'm this tired, I'll collapse against this desk".

'The typical subtle emotional blackmail of Samuel Drake', Aya concluded in her mind.

"As if I care" she declared, letting out a yawn later. Before Sam continued protesting, she finally gave in. "Okay, you win. I’ll be there in twenty minutes".

In spite of everything, Aya had not taken long to leave her apartment. After so many times without any results, she felt the emotion manifesting in small tingles in her fingers, which had not hesitated to turn the throttle handle. The summer air of Edinburgh gingered her up a little, but not enough to avoid more long yawns when she got off her motorbike.

When the elevator doors opened, Aya could have sworn to enter a totally different place but Adler's company. It transmitted more coldness than used to, not a soul inhabiting that corridor on the second floor. As she left the elevator and turned right, automatically making her way to the office, she jumped when she saw Sam draining some last drops of coffee. His back was against the open doorway that led to a small room where employees could have a snack between the hours of a strenuous workday.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty" unlike her, Sam had noticed early the arrival of his partner. She replied in the same way, while Sam dunked a disposable paper cup into a small garbage can and, approaching the coffee pot, poured a dose of that bitter dark liquid. "For the inconvenience".

Aya returned a smile, then accepted the drink he offered after leaving her helmet on one of the tables in the narrow room.

"Thanks, I went late to bed last night." After a little sip, she studied her partner, the tired gesture in the dark circles framing his eyes and the hands in his pockets, but the nervous pounding of his right foot against the floor. "And you? Did you get any sleep?".

He shrugged.

"Sam, after three months we can afford to wait a little longer to find out what you've discovered" Aya continued.

"No fucking way, I couldn't leave this half done".

"But I could've given you a hand".

Aya had said goodbye to Sam the day before, without predicting he was up to something. It was routine for both of them to leave work together to go out for a drink, but they did not insist when the other did not want to. This time was no exception, and Aya had left after a brief 'see you tomorrow' However, she could not deny she would have liked Sam counted on her to help him.

"Let me take the glory for a day" Sam replied. Aya noticed that he was frowning every time she brought the coffee to her lips. "Do you mind finishing it in the office?"

Aya raised an eyebrow, then outlined a resigned smile. Sam looked like a little boy proud of some discovery to show to his mother. She shook her head, and after taking her helmet again, Sam held her waist and pushed her firmly into the office.

"Hey, easy!" Aya complained, but with a funny gesture. "Are you always that quick at foreplay?"

She could sense from the corner of her eye how Sam rolled his eyes.

"Never had any complains".

They were a few meters from the office they shared, so seconds later Sam closed the door behind them. Although that room did not usually remain neat, that day it really seemed a tornado had wiped out everything. The large wooden desk was a faithful witness of Sam's sleepless night, full of empty paper cups, messy notes and several volumes opened by pages that were almost the result of randomness. Aya hardly found a gap in that chaos to leave her helmet, her bag and her leather jacket, piling them on the armchair next to the fireplace.

Being aware of that anarchy for the first time, Sam looked around the room with a deep sigh. The lack of hours of sleep began to beat the pulse of ingested caffeine, and he did not even know how to start talking. Then, he took out his inseparable pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and approached the desk lighting a cigarette. Before throwing it on the table he held it towards Aya, offering one to her, but she denied with a wave of her hand.

"Good girl" Sam pointed with a sarcastic smile, letting himself fall into a nicotine-laden sigh on the armchair behind the desk.

Aya made the same path, but remained standing in front of him, on the other side of the table, with the steaming coffee in her hand. She let her eyes wander over Sam's calligraphy and the ink in the rickety open tomes, but soon he brought one of them in her direction. Her fingers traveled through the open page of the thick book, leafing through it until she found the beginning of the chapter to which the writing responded.

" 'Of Captain Rackham and his crew' " she read aloud, identifying the title of the work when making the cover: 'A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the most notorious Pyrates'.

"Sounds familiar?"

Aya pursed her lips, looking at an infinite point between the words describing the pirate. She felt unable to remember that name among the twenty Sam had offered as members of the Fancy's crew

"I know this book, but Rackham... He wasn't in your notes, right?".

"Not exactly" Sam leaned back on the seat, puffing on his cigar with a smirk on his lips. "But we do have in this chapter a couple of those anonymous names that participated in the Gunsway Heist: Edward Warner and Walter Rouse".

"They would belong to Rackham's crew, not Avery's" Aya said, scrutinizing Sam with confusion on her face, who shook his head at her assertion. "Well, they could have been in both, but it would be too much of a coincidence..."

Sam was smiling broadly. His partner approached the resolution, but still showed a baffled gesture biting her lips with a blank stare.

"Com'on, you can do better".

Aya took a sip of her coffee, pretending to clarify the ideas, and turned the pages of the chapter again until she found that list of names among those she found Warner and Rouse.

"It would be useful if Rackham himself had sailed with Avery, it would make it easier to find some trace of a cross" she said hesitantly.

"Bingo".

Aya lifted her head off of the book like a spring.

"But that's presupposing Rackham took part in that Gunsway thing"

Sam sat up on the armchair, holding his cigar between his lips, and looked with both hands for the notebook that had accompanied him in those months between a tide of papers. Aya walked around the table, reaching the right side of Sam, who approached the notebook opened by the page with the anonymous identities he claimed were linked to the Fancy. She gave him her almost finished coffee, which Sam did not hesitate to hurry. Among those names, Aya saw Sam had underlined one: John Bonny.

"Warner and Rouse were also mentioned in a letter signed by John Bonny", Sam explained. "To Avery, of course. That's why I deduced those three belonged to his crew".

Aya fixed her eyes on each stroke of the pirate's name as if delving into it could give her more information. Sam turn off his cigar on the ashtray on the desk, and leaving the right armrest free, Aya sat on it.

"A letter like Burnes's?" she asked.

"No, it doesn't say anything about the cross. But it gives us a clue about the real identity of the one who wrote it".

She handed the notebook back to her partner, deep in her own thoughts. Sam had many rich enough historical resources, but he had been conveniently cautious in gathering his research in a notebook instead of bringing to the office the sources from which he had taken all those anonymous names.

"Right, and how do you know John Bonny is the pseudonym of Jack Rackham?" Aya had settled into the small space the armrest allowed, being able to look at Sam more comfortably, in a closeness to which both already yielded without discomfort after many hours they shared.

"Bonny was his wife's surname, Anne Bonny. A pirate too, by the way".

She kept an arched eyebrow, with an incredulous expression.

"Wow, very clever. I thought criminals should be a little more careful with their identities"

Sam chuckled, noticing a certain irony in Aya's words.

"Rackham was a short-brains kind of guy. Just the opposite of his wife, by the way. Listen to this, you'll love it", he leaned across the table to reach the book he had previously shown Aya, and turning a few pages, began to read aloud: "The day that Rackham was executed, by special Favour, he was admitted to see her; but all the comfort she gave him was 'that she was sorry to see him there, but if he had fought like a man, he need not have been hanged like a dog' ".

Aya could not help a laugh, which made Sam turn his head towards her. The woman rested her left arm on the backrest, having brought her face closer to allow herself to read that passage better. His eyes traveled from her legs crossed, through the curve of her waist, to her parted lips.

"She reminds me of you" Sam murmured, causing Aya also looked at him. His posture, with his body pointing towards Aya as allowed by the seat, raising his head slightly to look at her, both breaths separated by few inches.

"Yeah, it sounds like something I could say," she answered, lowering the volume of her voice. "But I wouldn't marry such a mess of a man like him".

Sam arched both eyebrows, trying unsuccessfully to contain a grin.

"It's not that I wanna rub salt into the wound, but...".

Aya emitted a sigh mixed with a restrained laugh, averting her gaze.

"You're earning a punch".

"And when I'm gonna earn a ride on your bike?" He replied, nodding at where Aya's helmet lay. "I think Rackham deserves it".

'God, that sounded worse than I thought', he said to himself.

She returned her green eyes to his golden ones, shortening the distance between them a little more.

"Not even in your wildest dreams".

Then, Aya looked down at his lap, where Sam had left his notebook open.

"You know?" She brought her free hand to it, flipping the pages between the notes she had already seen before. Sam swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken when he could feel her suggestive closeness. "It's time for you to tell me how you know so much about Henry Avery, Professor Drake".

Aya did not move her hand away from the piece of paper yet, but she did turn her eyes to Samuel's bewildered blinking, as fast as she could feel her breathing returning. That new nickname had taken him by surprise, but he did not dislike it at all.

"Well, thirteen years is quite a long time to read a bit of everything" he replied, with pretended innocence.

"Before arriving in Panama you already had Burnes letter"

She could not deny maybe she was taking advantage of the situation to make Sam talk, though he had already proven he was not someone who could get caught by easy manipulation. But she could not help but tempt him, even if she got a different result; Aya looked at his lips with pure desire, and for some time she had wondered how much more she could endure without ignoring her principles.

"Just a family legacy" Sam replied, after a few seconds of tense silence.

"Rescued of a fire in a university?"

Sam narrowed his eyes, though a grin showed at the corner of his mouth. Just with that gesture, Aya knew she was not going to get any information about him. The few clues that were known about Avery and his crew were lost in such an accident, so how Sam would have obtained them was a story that Aya was determined to know sooner or later.

"What do you know about that?" he asked.

"Just that a few lowkey thieves took advantage of the situation".

Without looking away, Sam slowly moved the notebook under Aya's hand, throwing it without a care on the desk. Aya felt his fingers caressing the coarse cloth of his jeans, under which she could sense his arousal growing, and held back a smile by biting her lip.

"I guess that’s a good summary" he concluded in a strangled sigh.

The spinning knob of the door betrayed him, Sam and Aya staring at it, but neither of them reacted in time to change their position when Rafe appeared before them. Only then, Aya straightened slowly, bringing her hands to her lap, and Sam shifted in the seat with a clearing of his throat, resting his elbows on the desk.

"Interrupting something?" Rafe scrutinized them from the doorway. Sam and Aya looked at each other, as they heard the door close. "What are you doing here so soon?"

Rafe approached them with his hands in the pockets of some dark casual pants, scanning around with a frown. That day he had refused wearing one of his elegant suits, as many other times in which his work in the office was lightened enough to participate for a full day in the investigation process of his two treasure hunters.

"Sam has good news," Aya broke in, causing Rafe to raise his gray eyes to her. "Actually, he hasn't arrived soon — he has been here since yesterday".

Rafe raised his eyebrows, looking at Sam. The previous day he had been busy in a negotiation with a new partner, so he did not step on that room as if to check that Sam stood up late. He felt as if he were giving explanations to an adult for doing some horseplay.

"And when did you arrived?"

"Fifteen minutes ago" Aya answered, letting out a weary sigh afterward. "You may continue with the third degree or you want to know what he discovered?"

Sam and Aya knew Rafe would not like being the last to find out about Sam's inquiries, so they ignored commenting she had come at a call from her partner. For Rafe, Aya had only been lucky to appear fifteen minutes earlier and meet an impatient Sam wishing to tell her a new theory. Rafe glanced quickly at his usual seat, the armchair in front of the fireplace, colonized by Aya's belongings. He decided to stand reluctantly, while Sam took the pack of cigarettes on the table and again placed a nicotine cylinder between his lips.

"Turns out that one of our anonymous pirates wasn't as untraceable as we thought" Sam began.

Rafe blinked several times, with an approving pout sticking out of his mouth.

"That sounds promising" he answered then. He looked down at the papers on the desk, searching for some reference. "And who's our guy?"

"Jack Rackham. Calico Jack to the public".

Sam continued telling Rafe the process of theorizing about the true identity of John Bonny, showing him the same book as Aya, as well as the notes in his notebook. Rafe remained with his face absent, his jaw tense, listening to his words without showing any hint of the enthusiasm both would have expected from that news.

"I would say Avery didn't make a cross for every pirate, but for every captain of the ships that would join as part of his fleet," Sam continued. "Maybe Burnes wasn't just an ordinary pirate, he could've been a captain who couldn't make his mark on the History books.

Rafe kept his sorrowful silence.

"The success of the Gunsway Heist can only be explained if there were many pirates, and that means doing too many crosses" Aya interposed, trying to get Rafe to intervene. "It would be easier for Avery to send them to the captains so they could share with their crew as they thought better".

"Yeah, so in any case, Jack Rackham is the best clue we can have" Sam concluded. "I'm sure he would keep the cross as part of his treasure. I don't think he knew he had to break it to get the clue".

Rafe closed the book Sam had lend with rigid slowness, emitting a bitter laugh.

"Jack Rackham, huh? Well, I'm sorry to tell you some other dog's ahead of us" leaning on the table with both hands, he looked up at Aya again. "I'm surprised you didn't wise up, Aya".

Sam watched as the relaxed face of the woman turned into an expression of annoyance.

"Oh, fuck..." she whispered.

Looking at Rafe and Aya like he was at a tennis match, Sam raised a hand in a sarcastic gesture:

"Hello, could anyone explain what this is all about?"

Rafe released all the air from his lungs through his nose, trying to relax his posture.

"We have competition looking for Jack Rackham's treasure," he said then. "Nicholas Trott has been dedicated to pirates for years, though luckily he has no fucking idea of Henry Avery. But if he succeeded with Blackbeard, I won't be surprised if he has already managed to move forward on Rackham enough so we are at a disadvantage".

Sam frowned, turning to Aya, remembering his involvement in the treasure of Queen Anne's Revenge. Rafe was quick to clarify:

"Aya used to work alongside Trott before".

She got up crossing her arms over her chest.

"I didn't work alongside Trott, but Myers. If he got financing from them it was his problem, not mine".

Sam began to feel so dizzy he squeezed the cigarette still unfinished in the ashtray. 'Who the hell is Myers?' hammered in his head. That new information was not able to enter his brain with the hours of sleep that were missing. With the weight of his body, he pushed back the armchair and stood up with a sigh, believing the seat would absorb him. He began to rummage without any sense the tangle of papers on the desk as if there was some solution in them.

"That Trott guy" he said, unraveling the chaos in his mind "he trusts you?"

Aya blinked several times and letting her arms fall, shrugged with a snort.

"Yeah, well... I suppose. They don’t have as many reasons to hate me as Rafe".

The businessman raised an eyebrow.

"I don’t see the problem" Sam continued, then raised his head to him. "We have everything in our favor, indeed".

Aya narrowed her eyes at her partner as if pretending to read his mind. If he was thinking about what she believed, he would do her a great favor to earn Rafe's credibility.

"What are you talkin' about, Samuel?" Rafe replied at last, without getting rid of his skeptical expression.

"You've worked before for that guy, and with good results" Sam was then talking to Aya. "We can use it to get information from Rackham's treasure".

"At this point, they'll have all kinds of information," she answered, tilting her head to one side, "any document proving there's a Saint Dismas cross in his treasure".

"And it won't hurt too much to lose a wooden cross if you have no idea of Henry Avery" Sam completed.

"Okay, get down to Earth". Rafe snapped his fingers to get their attention. "You really intend to steal Jack Rackham's treasure from one of the most powerful families in England?"

"It would be a hoot..." Sam began, interrupting shortly after Rafe's sharp eyes, "but it's not necessary. Guess it's enough with the cross"

'But a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush...', he ended in his mind. He shook his head, getting rid of that idea. Rackham's treasure seemed to be very seductive, but giving in to it could shatter the four hundred million Avery's was worth.

"Doesn't suit me at all to start up trouble with them" argued Rafe staring at Aya, who likewise stared at him fiercely.

"They don't know I'm working for you now, so it won't be difficult for me to infiltrate as part of the 'tactical team' " continued Aya, with a sarcastic tinge in her last words. She was not even sure it would be that easy, but she could not help but pick up the thread with which Sam had started to convince Rafe. "We only have to steal the information they got about the location of the treasure and take the cross before them. They can find their gleaming gold later without suspecting of anyone".

"Do you really think they'll accept you to work with them just like that? It's been happening a lot lately" Rafe was still talking directly to Aya. She breathed and exhaled through her nose slowly, putting her hands on her hips.

"Rafe, that's the only thing we have for now," Sam said. "We can forget about Rackham if you want, but we won't find a better opportunity. Aya can scout them, check if they have some kind of clue, like a logbook".

"If there's nothing conclusive enough, we continue the search for any other cross" she declared. She had moved stealthily to stand next to Rafe, and she leaned back against the desk with both hands. "Come on... As if you wouldn't like the idea of stabbing a knife in Trott's back".

The volume of her voice had gone down, but Sam could hear the same flattering tone Aya used as a method of persuasion. Rafe kept his gaze fixed on a point between the papers on the table, clenching his jaw.

"Of course I like the idea." He answered, darkening the tone of his voice. "But why do you too?"

"I already told you, Rafe. I'll just go to the highest bidder".

Rafe nailed an angry look towards Aya, invisible then for Sam, later undoing it in a sigh. He blinked several times before speaking again:

"You'll travel to London, both of you. First, check there is a good proof of the existence of that goddamn cross and" Aya had made a move to get away from Rafe, but he stopped her turning her face with a slight movement of his hand "then we'll talk about the infiltration".

Sam frowned. The way in which Rafe scrutinized Aya's face provoked a sensation in his body he could not identify.

"Make whatever phone calls you need" he sentenced at last, lowering his hand. "We'll get the whole thing finished as quickly as possible".

Aya nodded, and once she crossed nimbly next to Rafe towards the armchair next to the fireplace, she turned her face to Sam and gave an accomplice half smile. The lack of sleep meant he was not able to process all that information with sufficient energy: they were going to travel to London to sneak between one of the most powerful families in the country. He supposed the plan must be at the hands of Aya because he was not able to conceive how it could be possible without a good ace up her sleeve, and how Rafe could accept it then.

"You should go home and take some rest, it's going to be a bumpy ride" Rafe pulled him out of his reverie, giving a small flinch after finding himself scrutinizing Aya searching through her belongings to find her mobile phone. "I'll walk you out".

Sam was barely aware of what words he exchanged with Aya while he took his belongings, and even less of what Rafe told to the woman before closing the door behind him, back to the office corridor. He put his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and started walking toward the elevator next to Rafe.

"Not that I'm completely sure of this plan, but you've still done a good job".

"Thanks, Rafe".

"You're fucking her, aren't you?"

He stopped cold, as well as Rafe, finding themselves both facing each other. Sam kept his jaw rigid, but Rafe offered a relaxed expression only altered by his arched eyebrows.

"That's... way too forward. But no, unfortunately not" then Sam started walking again. He looked around briefly, noting there had not yet been enough employees who could hear their conversation. "Is there any company policy forbidding it?"

"More like I have a million reasons not to trust her" sentenced he businessman.

Sam chuckled, nervously. He did not know if Rafe would suspect of the strange association between Aya and Sam, and if that was a test to discover their plans against him or he just had reluctances about her. He would be lying to himself if he did not recognize that, despite the three months they had worked together, there was something in Aya that still did not add up. And, although his brain kept him from relating it easily, there were too many details in the events of barely fifteen minutes ago that did not help to trust her.

"Well, Aya's not an open book, but it seems she's making things easy for you" he answered, in a tone that did not seem as convincing as he pretended.

"Stop thinking with your crotch for a moment, Sam. That's what she wants".

They were then in front of the elevator, and Sam could not help but look askance at him. His gray eyes were fixed on the small monitor on the metal doors, whose ascending number seemed to have hypnotized him. If Aya didn't lie, that man had already wanted to use her to manipulate him... And his own paranoia seemed to turn against him.

"And what do you want from Aya?"

"She's good at her business, that's why I want to play it safe" Sam turned his head with raised eyebrows, and Rafe caught the message with a joking laugh. "It's obvious what many men want from her, but that's what Aya takes advantage of".

Sam rolled his eyes. He had to admit he looked at Aya with tempting intentions, but Rafe's attitude towards her was uncomfortable, violent.

"You won't allow her to take a bite out of you, of course".

Rafe remained silent. A hint of uncertainty lodged again in Sam's brain: perhaps Rafe's negative attitude toward Aya was well founded — after all, he still did not know what reasons Aya had to betray Rafe.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask me about her the whole time I've been here" Sam continued, trying to ignore the incipient doubts."But if you think Aya is using me, don't you think she would get into my pants before?"

"That's what she said to convince you, right?" Sam sensed how Rafe was smiling full of irony. "Tell me something, did you really believe she completely forgot the Trotts are working on Rackham's treasure?"

"You think she's spying for them".

Sam had intended to pose it as a question but slipped in its place a sharp affirmation that provoked a bitter laugh in Rafe. The door opened before them, finding the cabin completely empty.

"I have no idea who the hell Aya can be, and that's why I need you".Going inside it, Rafe then pressed the button to the upper floor. Sam sighed — he had to wait a little longer to be able to take a nap.


End file.
